


How to Get a Girl in 10 Days

by Evilsnowswan



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days Fusion, Coming Out, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, F/F, Family Issues, First Kiss, First Time, Gay Bar, Kryptonite, Lena Luthor Finds Out Kara Danvers is Supergirl, Lesbian Lena Luthor, Midvale (Supergirl TV 2015), Minor Alex Danvers/Maggie Sawyer, Pansexual Kara Danvers, Queer Themes, Season 1 Fusion, Sexual Assault, Skippable, Slow Burn Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, The DEO | Department of Extra-Normal Operations, William is a jerk and stays that way, briefly one scene in chapter 27, summary provided
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:47:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 137,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25401832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evilsnowswan/pseuds/Evilsnowswan
Summary: Kara Danvers is an aspiring reporter at CatCo Magazine who, after a meeting gone terribly wrong, is tasked with making a woman fall in love with her in 10 days and write about it. How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days AU. It’s gay.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 860
Kudos: 1670





	1. The Assignment

**Author's Note:**

> This is what it says on the tin. Playing fast and loose with the timeline and mix-and-matching canon as I like. And, fyi, before we begin: Kara Danvers isn't out in this. Not in any sense of the word. Pre-reveal/Supergirl, if you will.

It was a regular Wednesday morning when her life took a turn for the unexpected.

Kara had just made it to her desk a few minutes prior and hastily checked her reflection in the monitor screen for renegade toothpaste on her cheek, when the elevator doors dinged open and Cat Grant stepped off, dark sunglasses hiding half her face, a massive coffee cup from Noonan’s in her hand. Her lips pinched together, she strode straight into her office and, only when her door shut in everybody’s faces, did they breathe a collective sigh of relief.

Not in a good mood then.

Kara’s first instinct was to go and ask if there was anything she could do; anything Miss Grant needed, but she held herself fast to the spot and sat down at her desk instead, biting her lip as she switched on her computer. She was a reporter now. She had to do reporter-y things. No more fetching coffee or water—or that giant bottle of Advil Miss Grant kept in her purse at all times.

“Staff meeting. Fifteen minutes.” Nia had materialized at her desk within seconds. Her fellow cub-reporter shot a nervous glance at Miss Grant’s office door. Their boss had settled behind her desk and was frowning at her screen. “Should be… _fun_ , huh?”

Kara smiled. “It’ll be fine,” she said. “Miss Grant… well, she’s… don’t worry.”

Nia looked doubtful, but Kara knew better than to let Miss Grant’s morning moods get to her. She knew her well and Miss Grant was a good boss. Fair. Also, she was far less bite than her bark might suggest.

“Anniversary issue,” Kara leaned back in her chair, linking her hands behind her head as she grinned up at Nia. “Do you know which beat you want yet?”

Nia’s frown turned upside down. “Fashion,” she said instantly. “Pride’s coming up and I got ideas. Not sure, Miss Grant will greenlight it—or if Siobhan will let me live if I take it from her, but, uh, yeah.” She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, hands playing with her pen and clipboard. “How about you?”

Kara shrugged. She wasn’t sure. What she really wanted to write about was the Alien Amnesty Act, but there was no way on earth–or any other planet–that she would be allowed to cover it. There was a pecking order amongst CatCo’s reporters and she and Nia were pretty much at the bottom of the food chain still. That meant nothing more substantial than fashion, trends, diets, nip and tuck, and celebrity gossip. Gossip of the salacious kind that Eliza would be disappointed in her for wasting her gifts on. Even if her unique… talents probably made her perfect for the job, she wouldn’t touch the gossip beat with a ten-foot pole. Spying and prying on people’s private lives like that was rude and intrusive and gave her major secondhand embarrassment.

“I only got a couple half-baked ideas,” she said, yawning, and shuffled through the papers on her desk, looking for her pad and pen. “And Pride’s like, what, like three months away?”

Nia ignored the comment. “Half-baked, hmm? Does one of them include fighting me for Fashion, so you can sneak in your political commentary on AAA? _Our President’s recent choices of smokin’ three-piece suits and her, like, intense new hot yoga regime, and how they reflect her pro-immigration stance in the debate on amnesty_ —” Nia pointed her pen at Kara with a knowing smirk. “I know you want to, Kara. And I wouldn’t even be mad.”

Kara smiled. Nia was a fairly new addition to her CatCo family, but the two of them were fast friends, had bonded immediately over their passion for fast food, 90’s music, and the fight for minority rights and representation in media and politics.

“I don’t think I can pull one of those again.” Kara sighed. “Snapper would have my head. For real this time.”

Snapper Carr was the managing editor for city news, politics, and sports. He also, grudgingly, oversaw cub-reporter training. Miss Grant was far too busy to mentor every single one of them personally. She only cherry-picked favorites, which had been Kara’s one saving grace when she had dared to deviate from an assignment and made her piece on National City’s nightlife _a tad_ too political, subsequently stepping on a lot of toes.

It had been a good piece, but Miss Grant wouldn’t bail her out a second time. She only did those things once. On a good day. When she found you, well, at least, tolerable.

“True.” Nia laughed. “Worth it though.”

Kara bit her lip. Nia wasn’t wrong. Part of her liked the idea. And the President did look particularly… dapper in those suits.

“Chop-chop. Look alive, people!” Cat’s voice cut through Kara’s train of thought like a collapsing bridge over a canyon, sending it into the abyss, and, grabbing her notepad and pen, she jumped to her feet and hurried after Nia to join the stream of people filing into Cat’s office for the meeting.

“Good morning.” Cat addressed them from behind her desk. Since she was standing, no one dared sit down at the conference table just yet. “Well, sit down, sit down! We, that is I, don’t have all day.”

They hastened to comply, and Kara made a face as close to twenty chairs scraped across the floor and people set up their legal pads, planners, and the occasional tablet computer in front of them, and clicked their pens expectantly.

“Marvelous.” Only when they’d all settled down, did Cat join them, her heels clicking rapid gunfire in Kara’s ears as she moved to take her usual spot at the head of the table. She remained standing, surveying the scene, then leaned forward, her palms pressed to the cool milky glass. “Pitches?”

Hands shot into the air all around her—even Nia’s trembling one— and Kara beamed at her, mouthing a silent _you go, girl_ in her direction.

Her own hands stayed on her pad. Aside from the politics beat, there was nothing she truly wanted. She’d make do with whatever assignment she got.

Cat’s gaze swept over raised hands and faces, lingering on Kara for a hot second and making her squirm in her seat. She should have done her homework and come prepared, she knew, but she’d been up all night last night, following the final debate before Super Tuesday. It had been a heated one, the presidential candidates’ last chance to make a splash on the national stage before the primary on Saturday, and Kara had sat and watched, her eyes glued to the TV, the tray of pot stickers laying abandoned, left cold and untouched on the coffee table.

Eyes on her pad, she shook her head slightly, and Cat moved on, pointing at Siobhan, who promptly went for Fashion. Of course.

“Any more contenders for the fashion beat?”

Cat smiled at Nia, who had gone very still and red-faced, but kept her hand up, ignoring Siobhan’s glare. Cat’s smile was only a small one, barely touching the perfectly contoured lips at all, but Kara saw it play at the corners nonetheless, feeling a hot trail of guilt run down her spine.

“Nia.” Cat sounded pleased. She gestured for Nia to speak and her attentive eyes never left Nia’s face as she presented her pitch, running through her idea at a slightly breathless pace at first, but calming down about halfway through, her voice and breathing evening out before she closed with a bang and beamed.

“A little scary, but upbeat. Inclusive. Yes.”

And that was that on Fashion, leaving Nia flushed with triumph and Siobhan’s face resembling curdled milk as she leaned back and crossed her arms, scowling.

After Fashion, Trends became a piece on the new waterfront restaurant and the ridiculously overpriced experimental—read: alien—dishes they served, and Kara kind of regretted not throwing in her hat for that one. Then again, her opinions on otherworldly cuisine might differ quite a bit from that of the next human, so maybe, it was for the best.

“Since we’re already here, what’s next for column... heartbreak?” With a hint of badly concealed disdain in her voice and demeanor, Cat’s gaze swung to William Day, their resident ‘How to’ guy, who usually strutted about the place as if he owned it.

William cleared his throat importantly and Kara rolled her eyes. “Well, Cat—” He drew himself up in his chair, leaned forward, and flexed his fingers, taking his sweet time to speak. Kara could hear Miss Grant quietly exhale through her nose. “Springtime means love is in the air. An influx of fresh meat on Tinder. People botching up dates, because they don’t know what they’re doing. But luckily for them, we, that is I, have just what they need,” he paused for effect and his smug British accent grew impossibly thicker as he went on. “Inspired by my friends’ frequent dating disasters, I’ll be using their personal lives for a hook and guide for a dating how to, but entirely focusing on what _not_ to do. For a twist.” He looked around the table with a smile that was probably meant to be charming, but instead of disarming her, Kara bristled at it. “Like a lot of our readers, the lovely ladies in the story struggle to hang onto relationships, so I am sure their _experiences_ , that is their… honest mistakes—”

Kara exchanged a quick look with Nia, who looked as disgusted as she felt. Who did William Day think he was? Bringing his _friends_ down to bring himself up and stealing their personal stories for his distasteful, demeaning piece on dating culture. What a rotten way to treat the friends, the _women_ , who—for reasons Kara would never understand—had chosen to confide in him.

“You know, things are brilliant for, like, a week and a half, but then, all of a sudden, it's over, and she’s left wondering what went wrong. This ‘how to’ will hold the answers.”

“How _not_ to, if I understand correctly?”

“Yes.” William wasted another relaxed smile on Cat, who brushed it away with an impatient hand gesture. “A how _not_ to. Or: ‘How to Lose a Guy’—featuring relatable, classic mistakes that most women make: playing dumb to get attention or playing hard to get, late-night calls, dropping the L-bomb on the second date, ...”

_Oh Rao, ew. Also, yawn._

Kara wasn’t sure if William was even aware of the looks on the women's faces, most ranging from mindlessly vacant to mildly irritated, but some absolutely livid. Siobhan looked ready to jump over the table and deck William right then and there, which scored her some points with Kara, who normally didn’t condone violence as a conflict solving tool, but would have paid some of her hard-earned money to see it happen.

“Not knowing what you want and being too needy, clingy, or touchy-feely …”

Who’d even want to touch _him_ , anyway? Kara knew William was a selfish snake, but he was also a world-class jerk, and she had to bite her cheek not to interrupt as he droned on.

“Always complaining about stuff, constant hints about marriage and children—”

“Excuse me,” Kara’s voice was a little loud as she cut across Williams tirade, and she adjusted her volume quickly so she wouldn’t be accused of being too _emotional_ or whatever, even when she had every right to be. “That’s... isn’t that a little—” She meant to say _sexist_ , but the word wouldn’t quite make it past her lips. “Boring?”

All eyes turned to her. Siobhan wore a satisfied smirk, Nia was nodding her on, and Cat just looked relieved William had finally shut up and stopped digging his own grave.

Kara swallowed.

“I mean, not _boring_ , as in a bad idea boring, but... predictable?” She took a breath. “Even if we flipped it and made it a ‘how to flirt’ for guys from a modern woman’s perspective... It’s still... I don’t know.”

William’s eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth, no doubt to argue the point with her, but Cat spoke before he could get a word in, silencing him effectively.

“No, no.”

She looked suddenly pensive, her gaze turning probing as she studied Kara’s face for something Kara wasn’t sure she’d actually find there. “Kara. Go on.”

Feeling heat rush to her cheeks, Kara took another wobbly breath, trying to get her thoughts in a row and failing miserably. Now what—? She had to think faster, think _super_ -fast, but her brain was no good when she was flustered like this. Flustered by being put on the spot unexpectedly.

“I’m not really sure guys know what girls _really_ want, is all,” she muttered, mortified.

“Oh, so you think you’d do better than any... than _all_ men in this room?” William looked daggers at her, but behind the anger, there was something else too, something almost like—contrived—mirth, warning Kara to tread very carefully now.

“Y-yeah.” Kara’s blood rushed in her ears and she didn’t care that she was headed head-first for yet another verbal spat with Prince Not-So-Charming. A very public one. In front of everyone. “Yes.”

“Oh.” He was smiling at her, wide and toothy and almost predatory, but not quite. “Then why don’t you put your money where your mouth is, Danvers?” He suggested, nonchalant. “Pick up... _a girl_. Write the article.”

Stunned silence. The tension in the room was almost palatable.

“M-Me? Write the—?”

“Hold on,” Cat held up her hands, then spoke to the room at large. “Actually, William has a point here. We’re... how do you millennials put it?” Her gaze swept over an open-mouthed Nia and landed on shell-shocked Kara, where it burned tiny holes into her skin. “ _With it_. Are we not?” She took a step back and put her hands on her hips. “Yes, yes. I like it.”

“But — Miss Grant!”

“Oh, Kara, anyone can slap a _rainbow_ on their newest merchandise and call it _Pride_ these days,” she said dismissively. “And anyone can do it in June. However, a dating advice piece for our LGBTQ-readers in _March_ …” She trailed off, a satisfied look on her face as she put her hands back on the table and leaned in Kara’s direction.

“Kara,” she said in her no-nonsense tone. “‘How to _Get_ a Girl in Ten Days’. Upbeat lesbian puff-piece. Go.”

“Why—” _why me?_ Kara wanted to scream. “Why... ten days?” She asked instead, her face on fire and her heart fluttering in her throat like a panicked canary. She _felt_ like a panicked canary.

“Well, a week is too short, wouldn’t you agree?” Cat smiled at her indulgently. “But you can always tweak the numbers a bit. Whatever you do, I want it on my desk for the anniversary issue.”

And that was that. William had dug a freaking hole six feet deep and pushed her into it smiling, and the grade A jerk knew it.

“Yes, Miss Grant.”

Pausing, Cat cocked her head. “Just run along and find the lucky girl. Go, go, go.”

“If I might make another suggestion,” William said as if the whole thing really had been his idea all along. “The CatCo-Fundraiser. On Friday. There’s an after party.”

“Perfect,” Cat said. “You can both go. William, you will cover the fundraiser. Kara, you know what to do. Wear something nice, flirt a little, let your hair down…” She eyed Kara’s ponytail for a moment, eyes roaming over loose strands of hair and landing on the faded scrunchie. “Just…” Smiling, she shook her head, then abruptly turned her attention to Snapper Carr so fast, it nearly gave Kara whiplash.

“Snapper, what is new in the sports world?”

Snapper seemed to wake with a start and grunted, uncrossing his arms. “Y’all know, Sharks lost the Superbowl, bunch of idiots they are,” he said, oblivious to the stares and the sniggering. “Fired the coach. Some scandal involved too, money laundering, from what I hear—”

Kara wasn’t listening anymore. Today was Wednesday, the fundraiser and party were only two days away. Two Days. She needed Alex and she needed cake. Immediately.


	2. The Bar

Alex had finally stopped laughing, but was still grinning at her from the couch while she paced the room.

“So, Miss Grant wants _you_ to date a girl. Date a girl and write about it?”

“Yeah.”

“She knows she can’t just assume people’s…preferences like that, right? It’s refreshing that Cat Grant doesn’t do straight as the default, apparently, but—”

“Wait.” Kara stopped, her head spinning round to stare at her sister. “You–you think Cat thinks I’m—but Alex, I’m… I’m not… I mean, on Krypton it didn’t really make a difference, but I… I never even—”

“Whoa, okay, okay.” Alex raised her hands, gesturing for her to calm down. “No one is assuming anything, okay? You know, you don’t have to do the assignment if you’re not comfortable with it, yeah? You can say no. Even to Cat, Kara.”

Alex’s face was earnest. She also looked a little bit concerned. In that protective big sister way that let Kara know Alex had her back no matter what, whatever she decided to do. Or not to do.

“I know, I know. It’s—I want to do it,” she said. She didn’t want to give William the satisfaction. And— “How hard can it be, right?” She laughed nervously, and Alex raised her eyebrows.

“Kara—”

“I don’t mean it like that,” she said quickly. “Just—just girls… I _am_ one, shared a bathroom with one growing up, most of my friends are girls…” She gave a little laugh. “I–I _like_ girls. Just—just not like that… I think.” She was rambling now, she knew it, but couldn’t stop herself. “It should be easier than with guys, right? I won’t be as… nervous?... I—Oh Gods, Alex, what do I _do_?”

Alex chuckled. “First of all: Sit down, you’re giving me secondhand motion sickness.” She patted the spot next to her on the couch. The one Kara had vacated as soon as she got up the nerve to tell Alex about her new assignment. “Have some more pizza, you barely touched any.” She indicated the carton on the table. “And then listen to me, because I have an idea.”

As far as Alex’s ideas went, Kara wasn’t sure that this one was any good or that she particularly liked it, but she had agreed to it anyway. Since the fundraiser after party was only two days away, Alex had suggested Kara dip in her toes under less pressure first and see how she felt about it. Then she could decide whether or not to do the actual assignment on Friday.

It sounded reasonable enough, but to Kara’s nerves it made no difference. With hands clasped tightly in front of her stomach she fiddled with her knuckles, weaving her fingers in and out of each other as she looked at herself in the mirror.

Her bedroom was an absolute mess; she’d pulled on—and taken off—every single item of clothing she owned and dumped it all on the bed in a big pile. Now she was in a dress—clean and simple, her favorite color—but that didn’t feel right either. She was sweating and tired, and honestly, her pyjamas and TV became more attractive with every second she scrutinized her face and body in the long mirror. 

What had she gotten herself into?

“That looks nice,” Alex said, walking in with a beer in her hand. “Color’s good on you.”

She had freshened up a bit and put on one of Kara’s flannel shirts. It was a little big in the shoulders, but worked well with her dark jeans and boots.

“Maggie is going to meet us there,” she said, taking a swig from her bottle. “If we’d gotten there before the crowds, she might have challenged you to a return game of eight ball, but—” she glanced at Kara’s alarm clock. “At this rate, it’ll be prime bar time and the Port will be packed. Wednesday’s karaoke night.”

Kara brightened at the thought of karaoke, though she doubted she could carry a tune with her heart blocking her throat and her belly doing backflips.

“Try these,” Alex said, holding out a pair of hoop earrings from Kara’s collection.

“Thanks,” Kara said, noting that her fingers were trembling as she took them from Alex and tried putting them on.

“Don’t worry.” Alex’s hand on her back nearly made her jump, but the warmth between her shoulder blades was reassuring. “We’ll just have a fun girls’ night out, okay?”

“Okay,” Kara breathed. Yeah, that was all this was. A girls’ night out with her sister and Maggie. She’d never been to the Port before, but how different could it be, really? A bar was a bar, right? And Alex and Maggie liked it there.

They took Alex’s bike, Kara wearing the goofy pillion passenger helmet and wrapping her arms tight around her sister as they sped across National City towards the harbor.

The bar was easy to spot. The Port In The Storm had a big sign with its name right out front and a very visible front door. It was a far cry from obscure or back-alley after dark and stood proud and tall, its colorful lights spilling out onto the cobblestone and almost stretching far enough to touch the dock.

On any other night, Kara would have smiled at the couples walking past them to get inside. She would have seen her sister or Nia reflected in them, hands held gently by a woman or a man who adored them, and a smile would have played on her lips.

But not tonight. Tonight, she tugged at the new dress that both the store assistant and her sister swore looked so flattering. Now, standing on the sidewalk at almost 10 p.m. on a Wednesday and shivering slightly, however, she wondered if it was too short. With each tug the front went lower and she made herself stop, wiping her clammy hands on the fabric instead. She couldn’t go back home to change. She just had to wing it.

A group of women walked past, talking and laughing, and they looked so casual, some weren’t even wearing make-up. Maybe Kara should have done that; show everyone she was so at ease with all this—it was only a work assignment after all—that she could show up in the button-down and chinos she wore all day.

“Hey, Danvers ladies!”

Maggie was waiting for them at the entrance, greeting Kara with a warm smile and her girlfriend with a kiss, and they took Kara between them, grabbing her hands and leading her inside. It took Maggie no time at all to order some drinks and to secure a small table for four–even when, as Alex had predicted, the place was bursting at the seams, brimming with life and laughter, hundreds of conversations held in loud voices and competing with the music.

Kara had been so lost in constructing scenarios for the evening ahead that she was only now taking it all in. The colors, the sounds, the smells—and, to be honest, it was all a bit overwhelming. Casting her eyes around the room, her gaze landed on the opposite wall: exposed brick, covered in colorful flags and symbols all over. There were some she recognized—pride, lesbian, bi, pan, transgender—and many she did not. As she turned to ask Alex about one in particular, her eyes landed on a very familiar sight, and, instead of asking her question, she just sat and stared at it, open-mouthed.

“That’s…” she spluttered, feeling excitement bubbling up and coursing through her like high-voltage. “That’s my—that’s… _Kryptonian_.” She lowered her voice so that only Alex could hear. “Alex, that’s Krypton’s flag!”

There on the wall was the flag of the Planetary Federation of Krypton. An image of Krypton with ten differently colored rays emanating from it, representing the eleven Kryptonian virtues, the _Girod_. Kara, having learned at a very young age, knew them all by heart and could easily match each virtue to its corresponding color. The flag symbolized diversity emanating from unity—and the longer she looked at it, the more at ease she felt. She just had to remember to look away before it hurt too much.

Alex squeezed her hand under the table, understanding, but not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to Kara and her roots. To be an out alien in National City, or anywhere, was still dangerous. And revealing herself as Kryptonian, as Superman’s cousin no less, would put a permanent target on Kara’s back that her adoptive family did not want there. It would also put them in danger every second of their lives, and so Kara went along with everything like she had for the past 12 years or so, wearing her glasses in public, holding back, and keeping her mouth shut to fit in. If not being her true self would protect the ones she loved, she would keep doing so gladly—for as long as she had to.

“The Port is safe for all,” Alex whispered in her ear. “Look!” She pointed out other flags that Kara recognized. Many from planets and people that no longer existed, but whose legacies had found shelter and a new home on Earth. Just like she had. The sight made Kara’s heart swell three sizes and her vision went blurry.

“Pretty cool, isn’t it? Can be a bit much, though,” Maggie said sympathetically as she gestured widely. “Did you know the owner is a Roltikkon? Explains a lot.”

“A Roltikkon, who you used to date,” Alex teased. “Which explains so much more.”

“Shut up, Danvers.” Maggie laughed, but Kara heard her heart stumble. Roltikkons could make telepathic connections and learn languages by making physical contact with their tongues, and Kara felt herself blush as her mind went places it had no business being.

“So anyone can come here?” She asked. “That’s really awesome.”

“It is,” Maggie agreed. “You just have to be careful what you get at the bar. Alien liquor is no joke on the human system. Could blow your brains right out. Literally.” Maggie paused to take a sip of her drink. “One time—”

“Mags, don’t,” Alex cut in, but Maggie ignored her.

“One time this guy lost a bet and chucked an entire bottle of Hellgrammite Firewhiskey and—”

“Margarita Elena Sawyer!”

Maggie just threw her head back and laughed. “Alright, alright, I won’t tell the story then. Your loss. It’s a good one.”

“Oh, I know your _good_ stories, Maggie. They’ll give Kara nightmares for weeks and I’m not—“

“Hey!” Kara protested. “I’m not… a child.”

“You’re my little sister. And you’re like… five and a half. So, forget it.”

Maggie looked back and forth between them, clearly entertained. “And you take your kid sister to a bar? A queer bar? I am… _concerned_ , Alexandra.”

Her impression of Eliza was so good that they both looked up, slightly alarmed, and joined in laughing.

“I see, you enjoyed your weekend in Midvale together?” Kara grinned. She knew that between her girlfriend and their mother, Alex had nearly lost her mind on that trip.

“Yeah, Eliza is great.”

“Mom _loved_ her,” Alex groaned, holding onto her glass for support. “You should have seen it.”

Maggie got to her feet and twirled on the spot. “And what’s not to love, hmm? Anyone want anything else from the bar?”

“I could do that!” Kara jumped up quickly. “I–I wanted to get some snacks anyway,” she said quickly as Alex shot her a look. “C-curly fries or something. They have curly fries, don’t they?”

“Yeah. Another beer for me then. Thanks.” She sat back down and looked at Alex. “Alex?”

“Soda, please. I’m not leaving my bike parked at the waterfront all night.”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “You’re married to that death trap. It’s not healthy.”

Kara left them to bicker and banter and made her way to the bar, admiring the flags and fairy lights up close as she passed them. The crowd at the bar was pretty young, students from NCU for the most part, and Kara felt a warm kinship at the familiar crest on some of the shirts and sweaters tied around their waists.

“Excuse me. Sorry—” She wound her way through the warm bodies to order the drinks—soda for Alex, the dark local beer for Maggie, and, yeah, and _what exactly_ for herself? Kara hesitated.

“Soda, beer. Anything else, love?” The girl behind the bar asked. She had a round face and kind eyes, but Kara wasn’t fooled by her human appearance. This was a fellow alien. She fiddled with her glasses, pushing them further up her nose as she pretended to be thinking about it.

“I’d love some curly fries, please,” she said, then slowly added “and, I don’t know. Anything, anything you could recommend for a… a…”

“A widely traveled visitor who’s here for the first time and doesn’t know what’s good yet?” The girl supplied with a bright smile and Kara nodded, swallowing against the rising panic in her chest.

The girl leaned closer. “Don’t worry, gorgeous. We’re not into outing anyone who isn’t ready here.” She reached for a bottle of beer and two glasses and winked.

Kara just nodded, still a little nervous.

Before the drinks were poured, she felt someone melting their body to hers from behind.

“Whoops, sorry. Excuse me.” The woman’s voice was close to Kara’s ear, her breath hot on her skin, before she stepped away and leaned on the bar in a way that made the low-cut neckline of her body-hugging, sequined dress even more revealing. She was good-looking in her fancy dress, the soft gold standing out against her sun-kissed skin, and she knew it.

“The whiskey here is pretty darn good,” she said conversationally, rolling her r’s in a way similar to, but also different from Maggie when she spoke Spanish. She lifted four fingers to indicate to the barista how many drinks she wanted, then turned her attention back to Kara and lolled her head to one side, pushing out her full red lips just a little. “Hi there.” Her blue eyes sparkled as she let them run Kara up and down and Kara felt her face grow hot. “I’m Andrea.”

“H-Hi. I’m… Kara.”

“Nice to meet you, Kara,” Andrea said, grinning. She gave her a look, turned to pick up her drinks with both hands and bumped her shoulder against Kara’s, before she went her way, parting the crowd like magic, her hips swinging perfect figure-eights.

“Here you go,” the barista said, sliding over a beer bottle, a soda, a mystery-cocktail, and her curly fries on a round black tray. “Tastes almost like Caipirinha, this one,” she whispered conspiratorially, “but careful, it packs a punch.”

“Thanks,” Kara said, eyeing the drink curiously. She didn’t care much for cocktails, but, when pressed, generally preferred the sweet and creamy, because they tasted almost like candy and alcohol did nothing for her anyway.

When she returned to their table and set down her bounty, Maggie whistled through her teeth. “Popular, Little Danvers.”

“What—?”

Maggie smirked, and Alex looked mortified. “One trip to the bar and you’ve already made _two_ friends.” She grinned. “Impressive.”

Kara sat down and pulled her drink toward her. It looked pretty—almost clear, but more like liquid fog on ice, with pieces of lime at the bottom and a green umbrella and a black straw. “What do you mean?”

Maggie looked at Alex, then back at her, and simply burst out laughing.

Kara didn’t understand. Frowning at her drink, she twirled the ice cubes around with her straw, watching the liquor swirl prettily.

“What’s that?” Alex demanded at once, eyes zeroing in on Kara’s drink and narrowing dangerously.

“Caipirinha?” Kara said, taking a sip through her straw before Alex could decide to snatch it from her. The taste of lime strong on her tongue, whatever it _actually_ was shot straight to her brain, making it a little fuzzy, and Kara let the straw slip from her mouth in surprise. _Whoa_.

“Kara…”

“Honest, Alex. Just Caipirinha.”

She didn’t look convinced. “Oookay.”

“Can we get back on topic here?” Maggie seemed far less concerned with Kara’s beverage choice. “Because that was fast. Might be a new record.”

Kara cocked her head, not following. Fast? What was fast? She was, but she wasn’t _allowed_ , so…

“The girl. The Latina at the bar?” Maggie said, exasperated. “She might be game for your little… _experiment_? Is all I’m saying.”

Despite the fluffy feeling spreading in her brain, Kara didn’t miss the way Maggie's lips curled around the word ‘experiment’ like it left a bad taste in her mouth.

Kara sighed. “Look, I’m never going to pull this off,” she said, ducking her head. “It’s probably a stupid idea, anyway. I– I don’t know what girls _want_. I don’t even know… what, what I want...”

“Hey,” Alex reached for her hand. “No need to spiral. Remember, we got this. You could still change the whole thing into an interview, or interviews instead?”

Kara shook her head. “No.”

Alex pinched the bridge of her nose, then ran her hand over her eyes. “Alright. Then what?”

Kara smacked her lips, distracted by the prickly feeling her drink left on them. Sour, but not _quite_ , and sharp, but not unpleasant. “I– I don’t know.”

Alex rested her chin on her palm, looking up at her. “What about the girl from the bar then?”

“The barista?”

“No, Kara. The _other one_.”

Kara giggled. “Oh. Andrea.”

“And she already got a name.” Maggie laughed. “Unbelievable. All you gotta do now, Karacita, is get up and find her table and you can make that a name _and_ a phone number.”

Kara blew out a breath.

“Don’t pressure her, she’s just… perusing,” Alex said.

“More like avoiding,” Maggie retorted. “Figures. Big chicken,” she pointed at Alex and then at Kara. “Little chicken.”

“Hey!” Kara and Alex protested in unison.

“Watch who you’re calling poultry.” Alex glared at Maggie, but her smile gave her away.

Maggie shrugged. “Andrea’s table is that way.” She nodded towards their left, and both Kara and Alex turned their heads to look.

Maggie sighed. “Real smooth.”

Sure enough, there she was: Andrea, sitting at a large table with three other women, throwing her head back at a joke or silly comment, her long hair cascading down her back. She was beautiful, yes, but Kara’s eyes didn’t linger and she found herself looking at the girl, the woman, sitting next to Andrea, instead.

She was casual, but smartly dressed in jeans, a sort of oversized hipster jacket—open over a dark top, and a neck scarf. Her face was made up, but not overdone, and her long black hair was pulled into a high ponytail. She was dressed like any other urban NC-girl, and yet, Kara could not tear her gaze away. There was something in the way she held herself, as if unsure of where her limbs should be in order to appear naturally placed. Whereas the average person just sat, happy to be here and barely aware of their surroundings, her eyes moved quickly as she looked around the room every so often, her gaze almost timid and never lingering anywhere for too long. Kara was struck by how bright her eyes were–seemingly, two entirely different colors when the light hit them just right–and by the prominence of her cheekbones and jawline.

When she looked her way and their eyes met—only for the briefest of moments—Kara froze, heart and head pounding, unable to do anything but stare, unblinking, until the other woman looked away first and turned to speak to Andrea.

Kara’s eyes plummeted into her drink and she didn’t dare look again, in case Andrea or her friend were looking her way. She’d been caught staring for no reason and it would just be awkward now.

She had hoped that, as the night went on, she would be more comfortable in this crowd and with this idea, but, even a little intoxicated by alien spirits, she still couldn’t work up the courage to walk over to that table and—

“Kara?” Alex nudged her, nearly sending her out of her skin. It had gotten so tight; she couldn’t have escaped it if she wanted to. “You okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Earth to Kara, you with us—”

She was yanked out of her stupor when the mistress of ceremonies—well, of queer karaoke night—cracked up the volume on someone’s cover of Queen’s ‘I Want to Break Free’ and she just grabbed Alex’s hand and boogied them right out into the middle of the dance floor. Maggie followed, laughing, and that was where they spent most of the next few hours. Kara didn’t want to think about Andrea or Andrea’s friend with the breathtaking… everything; and she certainly did not want to think about Friday; about how it felt like everything hinged on what she did at that dreaded fundraiser after party, and about how, like, once done it could never be undone.

They danced until closing time. Kara really had to laugh when they went out to the parking lot, and there sat Alex’s black motorcycle and a battered NCPD car, two of the only vehicles left in the lot—just a little conspicuous. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Queer Karaoke Night: Pride Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/37i9dQZF1DX59HcpGmPXYR?si=gEJRNC5MQz--yEmkWxECrg)


	3. The Party

Thursday morning came too soon—and with it another broken alarm clock and a terrible, nauseating, humiliating glimmer of exactly what people meant by the world’s worst hangover. To be fair, she couldn’t possibly _know_ if it was indeed the _world’s_ worst, but Kara didn’t feel like being fair right now.

Even with her eyes closed and lying absolutely still under the covers, it was brutal. Her head pounded with every pump of her heart—like each blood cell had been handed sharp tiny sticks and been set loose on her unsuspecting brain, beating the crap out of it in vicious attacks. Her throat hurt from breathing through her mouth. Between the pounding of the blood pressure drumbeat assaulting her head, an uneasy feeling scratched at the pit of her stomach. She had had the... _weirdest_ dream last night, but grasping at it only made it more elusive and her head throb harder. Liquor-induced amnesia begot confusion, begot anxiety, begot dread, and she finally opened her eyes—which took some effort.

If she ever went back to the Port she would have to ask for the name of that drink, so she could avoid it—and each and every one of its components—for the rest of her life.

Dragging herself out of bed was bad, the commute to work was worse, but sitting at her desk—with people’s happy chatter and phones ringing off the hook every freaking second—was literal hell. The relentless banging and clanging in her head didn’t cease – no matter how much she squeezed or rubbed at it. It was almost unbearable; and Kara found herself longing for that giant Advil bottle—had she gotten her hands on it, however, she would have knocked it back like skittles. Sometimes more had to be more, right? Yet, she knew that human pain medication did next to nothing for her and was probably useless for alien-alcohol hangovers, anyway.

An excess of anxiety, stale doughnuts, coffee, and one vile green smoothie (courtesy of one concerned Nia Nal) later, she had gotten about zero work done and it was finally time to go home again.

By the time she reached her apartment, Kara felt both exhausted and suddenly ravenous. Also, her brain had recovered enough for her to get worked up over Friday night again. With less than 24 hours to go, she couldn’t be sure whether it was the residue spirits still in her system or bouts of fresh panic that unsettled her stomach once more, but it left her at a loss as to what to eat and how much—and it took her until Friday morning to realize that she’d not only raided the entire fridge last night, but had gone through most of the cabinets as well, leaving her with dry cornflakes for breakfast and the bitter realization that she would have to go shopping tomorrow—and she hated grocery shopping on Saturdays. People were so… _slow_ on weekends.

Well, always given that tonight wouldn’t kill her—because that felt like a real possibility at this point.

Gazing down at her hands, Kara sighed. Her nails were already bitten down to the quick. Fretting, she nibbled at their frayed edges.

She’d given everything for time to slow down or to stop entirely, but, of course, it seemed to be doing the exact opposite, and before she knew it, she found herself across town yet again, this time in the financial district, in a high-class club that had been rented for the occasion, catching a thrilling glimpse into the sphere of the rich and beautiful of National City.

Standing a little off to the side, at one of the little tables by herself, Kara observed old men in expensive suits and women in top-of-the-line designer cocktail dresses or suits—some wore pantsuits—all dolled up and intimidating, and she felt hopelessly underdressed in her light blue sleeveless lace dress. Even her favorite sun-yellow clutch, which she’d brought along mostly for moral support, as a reminder of the sun god's power flowing through her veins, did nothing to calm her nerves. And her dress clashed most horribly with the CatCo-issued lanyard around her neck.

This was even worse than the Port. And she was completely sober and aware of just how much worse. There was no way, not in this universe or the next, that she’d go home with some woman’s name or phone number, let alone with a real date lined up for the foreseeable future.

Even if any of the women at CatCo’s after party were into dating women, she couldn't have guessed it—not from the way they dressed or moved or talked, and would rather have died than taken her chances with anyone. They all pretty much looked the same—maybe safe for a tall slender woman in a revealing red dress that showed off her heavily tattooed arms and cleavage. It was probably nothing but a trick of the light, but her tattoos seemed to move whenever she did, and it creeped Kara out.

There was no way around it—the after party was a bust. She would either have to go back to the Port and get creative or own up to the fact that she had bitten off more than she could chew and admit defeat on Monday. All she could do now was wait for it to be over and, maybe, make the best out of the hot and cold buffet while she was stuck here.

“Seen anything you like yet, Danvers?” William’s nasal voice hitting her out of nowhere, nearly made her jump and put a dent into the table. He laughed and joined her without invitation, setting his drink down. “I could get you a drink from the bar? Anything you… fancy?” He offered, running his eyes over her dress in a way that had her cross her arms over her chest. “Refreshing glass of… bubbly, maybe?”

“No… thank you.” Kara said, fixing a point behind his right ear. Her evening just kept getting better and better. Oh, Rao.

“Fundraiser was a success,” he said, sounding pleased with himself. “Cat’s outdone herself again.” Somehow, the way he said it, it didn’t sound like praise and Kara shot him a glare. Why couldn’t he just… go. Go and leave her alone.

“Great,” she said, her voice coming out more bitter than intended.

“Brilliant,” he agreed, unbearably chipper and not taking _any_ hints. “Listen, Danvers,” He leaned on the table, grinning. “There’s no shame in admitting you’re in over your head here—” well, she _was_ , but she’d be damned admitting it to _him_. Him of all people. Never. “I could take it from here, if you’d like. No hard feelings.”

He offered up a hand—for her to do what with, she wasn’t sure and didn’t care to find out.

“I’m fine with the assignment,” she said. “Thank you. I don’t need help.”

“Clearly.” Why was he still here? Why was he still grinning at her? “Just a thought. If you can’t hook a girl by the end of the night, you know where—”

“Oh, like you’d do so much better!” Kara burst out. Her nerves were frazzled and raw and he couldn’t stop picking at them with his stubby fingers until she snapped. “Like, like you could get any woman to go out with you just–just like… that!”

“Yes,” he said, still much too calm for her liking. “Any straight, unattached, available woman at this party. Absolutely.”

She shook her head.

“Look, I love women. I do. Whether they’re four, or forty, or my 88-year-old grandmother. I respect women. And I also listen. To many. And That’s why I can sell myself to any woman, anywhere, anytime.”

He had bypassed confident and cocky and gone straight for disgusting. William Day was everything guys did wrong in relationships. Everything girls hated. And proud of it.

“I’m talking about _love_ here, William.” Deep, meaningful, head-over-heels love. “You cannot just _make_ anyone fall in love with you. No one can. You’d know that if you understood women.”

He looked at her like she’d landed one too, this time, but only for a second, then he schooled his features back into that insufferable, self-assured grin.

“Kara,” he said, and she hated how her name sounded from his big mouth. “The advice column is new for you. When you turn it into a must-read, then you can write about... love, write whatever you want, but until then—let me be the expert.”

She wanted to tell him to go chill in the Phantom Zone for a bit. An eternity or two.

“Here, sweetheart, let me prove it to you,” he said, taking a drink and setting his beer back down. “The next woman who walks by this table—any woman, no matter who she is—if I chat her up and get her to agree to… drinks, I’m right and get to write the article. Write it as I originally pitched—”

“And if she rather wants to have drinks with me?”

He raised a lazy eyebrow at her. “Do we have a deal?”

Kara bit her lip. This was stupid and gross. He was stupid and gross. And it wasn’t for him to call the shots and decide who wrote what, anyway – and he knew it. Unfortunately, he also knew, Kara could be goaded into this stupid bet, if he kept pushing her buttons long enough.

“Her,” he said suddenly, and Kara’s head turned to see who he had nodded at.

A woman had just passed their table, making a beeline for the buffet, it seemed, but then she swerved at the last minute and changed course to talk to a couple at another table. The man, he was… there was no other way to put it, ancient, and the woman on his arm—Kara made a face—looked young enough to be his… well, at least, his daughter.

Distracted by the odd couple, it took her a moment to properly look at the woman who William had pointed out, but now that she was standing only a few feet away, politely listening to whatever the old man had to say, hands clasped in front of her body and nodding intermittently, Kara noticed how pretty she was.

Her dress was a rich black, off-the-shoulder affair with a plunging neckline, intended to show off her fair skin, dark hair, and other, considerable, feminine assets. Her hair was pulled up, making her neck look slender and lovely; her lipstick was bold, and her eyes—

Kara rocked back on her heels, winded.

_Oh._

The woman, the woman in the black dress, was—

“Glad to see we _can_ agree on some things, Danvers,” William’s sleazy comment was like an ice bucket dumped out over her head, making Kara gasp as she reluctantly turned her attention back to him.

“If you won’t, I will,” he said, his eyes glinting, and Kara bit her tongue hard, something in her chest growing hot as she squared her shoulders. _Over her dead body_. William would get to her only over Kara’s dead, lifeless, rotting body.

“And here I thought, you were a gentleman, William,” she said, her voice liquid honey on the surface, but steel underneath. “Ladies first. Isn’t it?”

“I apologize. By all means,” he said, inclining his head in a mock-bow, and gestured for Kara to go ahead.

“I don’t need an audience.”

“Cold feet already?” William grinned. “You’ll need a little more confidence to get a woman like her. I’m sure you are aware—”

Kara held up a hand to silence him. “Just stop and leave me alone... please.”

“Since you said please.” William downed the rest of his beer and left the foamy glass on the table. “Later, Danvers, and good luck. You’re gonna need it. Find me when she turns you down.”

And with that she was alone again, her heart thudding dully and her head spinning slightly as she tried to catch her breath.

Oh, she really, really, _really_ hated that guy. And his guts. His stupid, confident guts.

Risking another glance at the woman, Kara hated to admit that William was right. She was so far out of her league; she might as well be playing for another solar system. Also, Kara hated sports metaphors. If she was, well, just herself, and the other woman looked like _that_ , she might as well be trying to ask out the President.

“What have you done now…” Kara muttered to herself, mimicking her sister’s exasperated _oh, Kara_ expression.

There was no way around it now. If she didn’t do _something_ , William would make sure she never lived it down. Also, he was delusional enough to actually ask the woman out himself. And, what if—Kara struggled to finish the thought; in case thinking it was enough to speak it into existence—what if she actually said yes? What then? Imagining William’s... mouth, his hands, his… everything… on the woman who was still chatting to the couple, was enough to make Kara retch. She’d kick herself back in time and space, back from Earth to the Phantom Zone, if she ever let that happen.

No.

No. She would wait until the woman was done talking; would wait until she could talk to her alone and then—

Ducking her head, Kara all but fled the table and sought refuge at the buffet, loading a plate with a pile of fried goodness and ditching the green stuff. But even food—and it was excellent food—wasn’t enough of a distraction to keep her mind occupied, her heart steady, or her eyes away.

More people had joined the conversation and the woman in the black dress was talking animatedly now, gesturing with her hands and shooting someone a smile. The dress was gorgeous; that could not be denied. But Kara wasn’t sure that all those people needed to see so much of her. Her dress was tight; It had a clinginess to it that embraced her small waist and the curve in her back, and when she shifted her weight, the fabric pulled taut, and Kara was sure, it made all the men think about tugging the dress down and dragging it off her curves.

She looked away, tried to focus on the hot wings on her plate, but found her attention snap back to the scene of the crime the instant a pretty laugh reached her ears. It wasn’t as sophisticated, or as deep, or as adult as she thought it would be, but a girl’s laugh—chiming like a sweet little bell—and Kara was instantly enamoured with the sound.

And it was, oh, so tempting to lower her guard, glasses, and morals to become a little fly on the wall and listen in, just to know what her voice sounded like when she didn’t know anyone else was listening, but Kara wouldn’t do it. It was wrong, and invasive, and she was better than that.

She had to get a grip. Fast. Before she would do something stupid. Or creepy. Or both.

Focusing on her plate with all the might she could muster, her ears still perked up at the sound of heels clacking on the floor, but she didn’t look, didn’t look, didn’t look—even when every fiber of her being was yelling at her to _look_ , in Rao’s name, which was why—even when the clacking sound grew louder and louder—nothing could have prepared Kara for the sight of the woman—the gorgeous woman whose off-the-shoulder dress made her look like a movie star—bumping into her table with a sharp inhale of air and holding onto it for support, her beautiful face screwed up in pain.

“Oh, excuse me,” she said, a little breathless. “So sorry.”

Kara waved the apology away, trying to smile around an unfortunate, massive bite of fried chicken in her mouth. She swallowed hard and her eyes watered.

“I—” The woman winced again. “New shoes. Stupid.”

Kara wanted to say something funny, or, at least, something nice—she _was_ nice, dang it—but all that came out of her mouth was a quiet little “ _Oh_.”

“Again, I’m so sorry,” the woman breathed as she leaned down to reach for the shoe that seemed to be the problem—a flirty sandal with a killer heel. “I’ll be out of your hair in a second, I just—”

“It’s... fine,” Kara finally managed, squeezing the words past her stupid heart. “I–I don’t mind. Don’t worry. Oh...” Her eyes fell on the woman’s heel as she twisted her body to inspect the damage over her shoulder, holding onto her ankle, and Kara’s chest went tight with sympathy and empathy. The skin was broken, raw, and bloody.

Something in her brain clicking and shifting into gear at the sight of injury and discomfort, Kara rummaged in her clutch. Her personal assistant days might be behind her, but some old habits died hard. “Ha!” She said, victorious, and held out a box of assorted band-aids. “Here you go.”

The woman looked at her, her sharp eyebrows shooting up in surprise, before her face split into a wide, thankful smile. It felt like watching the sunrise; warmth tingling in Kara’s toes and travelling up until it colored her cheeks a helpless pink.

“Th-thank you,” the woman said, fiddling with the box now in her hand. “You’re… you’re a lifesaver.” 

“Of course. You’re welcome.”

She gave a little laugh and Kara bit her lip, realizing that her selection of band-aids didn’t come in the professionally acceptable skin-tones, but in screaming colors, with superhero or movie insignia all over them.

“Huh,” the woman huffed, apparently torn over Star Wars vs. Superman. “Interesting.” The black Star Wars band-aid would probably be the less conspicuous, and thus obvious, choice, but—Kara’s heart gave a little leap—she chose the latter, and a weird, warped sense of pride filled Kara’s chest at the sight of the blue band-aid with her family’s crest on the pale skin.

“Skin tones would probably be…” she muttered, feeling her ears grow hot.

“No, no. This is perfect.” The woman yanked her dress higher on her shoulders, free hand fiddling with the sleeves, and Kara found herself snared yet again, eyes trained on the movement, held in place by a strange spell she couldn’t break. “Thank you again, um, —”

The woman looked at her expectantly and it took Kara an embarrassing few long seconds to cotton on.

“Uh, Kara,” she said, hastily wiping her hand on her dress before holding it out.

“Well, thank you, … Kara,” the woman said as she took it. Kara liked how she said her name, slowly and carefully, almost sounding out both syllables separately, as if she were trying it on for size and scared to tear the expensive fabric. “I’m Lena.”

Lena.

The name echoed in Kara’s hollow brain, hitting the walls like a pinball.

Lena. Lena. Lena.

“Good thing at least one of us came prepared to this… _shindig_ , hmm?”

Was that a joke? Was it sarcasm? Was she supposed to laugh?

Suddenly, all words had fled Kara’s mind like migrating birds, her head full of static like an old television set that had lost the signal. And, oh Rao, she knew it was rude and looked _stupid_ , but she couldn’t help, but gape open-mouthed, because … _wow_.

“Yeah…uh,” she spluttered finally, half her brain screaming at her to _get it together, Kara_. “Yeah, muscle memory, I guess.”

Lena’s laugh tingled in Kara’s ears. “Good memory, then.”

Before Kara could say anything else, a woman had appeared at Lena’s shoulder. The blonde had a slightly harried look about her, but her voice was firm as she spoke.

“Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said, “but Morgan Edge says he needs to speak with you. _Immediately_. He says it’s important and urgent. I’m really sorry.”

“Of course, it is.” Lena heaved a sigh. “Thank you, Eve.” She turned back to Kara. “My apologies, Kara,” she said, her tone more professional, but immediately ruined the effect with the hint of an eye roll. “I’m afraid, I have to take this.” She fiddled with the band-aid box on the table. “Thank you. Again. Um, ... enjoy your evening?”

“You-you too,” Kara said stupidly, watching Lena and the stranger named Eve go with a strange mix of regret and relief swirling in her chest. Her brain and legs were numb. 

Imminent disaster managed, but crisis _not_ averted.

She should have… should have just _asked_ her. Why hadn’t she? And now the moment was gone and she was alone with her plate of hot wings again.

Kara wasn’t hungry anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we all know *the* dress. Who could blame her?


	4. The Gift

By Monday morning, Kara had circled through the five stages of grief at least twice and landed on some form of acceptance that felt more like resignation. She had had her chance and blown it. It had been days, and all she had to show for it were two names: Andrea and Lena. But nothing more had come of any of it — and it was her own fault.

She could have made an effort. She could have tried finding Lena again at the party. She could have gone back to the Port. She could have googled until her thumbs bled. However, Kara had done none of those things. Instead, she’d spent the weekend on the couch in her pyjamas, stuffing her face and watching CNN. There had been nearly 30 Democrats running just a few months ago, but the field had narrowed to just five candidates now. Her favorite, a reformed Coluan with the right ideas and the brainpower to see them through, sadly lacked the charisma required for the game. Even if he did well on Super Tuesday, it was hard to imagine him winning enough delegates to become the Democratic nominee. So, instead of taking her mind of … _things_ , the in-depth look at the polls, the fundraising numbers, and a few other things that could help shed some light on the current state of play, did nothing to cheer her up and made her feel even more miserable.

There was no way to sugarcoat it: She had failed. And Monday morning was here, harsh and gloomy, to remind her of it and rip the band-aid off.

Kara hadn’t seen William come in yet, but he wouldn’t let this go quietly. He would ask her about Lena the first chance he got, and Kara could already picture his smug face. Oh, William would love this. And he’d waste no time to flaunt just how right he had been, probably ask Lena out, and they’d end up married with two kids, a dog, and a white picket fence. He would be rubbing it in her face for years to come.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Nia set down two coffee cups and several bags of pastries on her desk and pulled the visitor chair closer to sink down on it, settling in for their usual pre-Cat, Monday-morning, second breakfast. “Or... cloudy with a chance of showers? Hey, what’s wrong?”

Kara sighed. “Nothing.”

Nia gave her a look. “It’s the assignment,” she said slowly, lowering her voice. “Isn’t it?”

Kara gave a non-committal grunt, followed by a shrug, prompting Nia to look at her with so much sympathy on her features, it actually made her feel worse.

“I– It’s just… not that easy.”

“You tell me, girl.”

Nia Nal was an out half-alien, a transgender woman, and had left her small hometown for Washington, D.C. at only 17 years of age—to get a degree in international relations from Georgetown University—and she’d been on her own ever since. Kara couldn’t even begin to understand how she did it.

“I don’t know what to tell Miss Grant,” she admitted, an iron fist made from dread and guilt gripping her stomach and squeezing tight. “William will have a field day with this.”

“Forget him, Kara,” Nia said firmly. “He’s not important. And—and Miss Grant… well, you could tell her… you need more time?” Fat Chance. “Or that you’d like to make changes to the pitch?” Even fatter chance. “Did Friday really go that... bad?”

Kara shook her head. “No, it’s just… I don’t know.” She gestured helplessly, not trying to think about Cat’s disappointed face when she broke the news.

As if on cue, the elevator doors dinged and Kara squared her shoulders, grinding her teeth. Here went nothing, then.

Instead of Cat Grant, however, a delivery guy—no, _several_ delivery guys—stepped off the elevator, one after the other in single file, each with armfuls of flowers that obscured their faces, some hauling in carts with yet more flowers behind them.

Conversations stopped, heads turned, and all of CatCo seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for an explanation for the sudden onslaught.

“Wow, look at those...” Nia breathed, clapping a hand over her mouth and biting her fingers to keep quiet. She shot Kara a quick, incredulous _'are-you-seeing-what-I-am-seeing-here'_ look, then turned in her chair to see better, lifting her chin and grinning from ear to ear. “I wonder who they are for?” 

Yes, Kara was seeing it alright.

From the open elevator, wave upon wave of fresh flowers rolled in, crashing into the lobby and spilling out into the bullpen, flooding every open space available.

Someone must have messed up an order of flowers for an event and routed the delivery to headquarters instead of where it was meant to go—that was the only feasible explanation. Cat would wig. She didn’t often yell, but she’d be yelling about this—and loudly— and, whoever was responsible for this mess, would be lucky if they got to leave the office in one piece today, with their hearing still intact and their job still waiting for them in the morning. Kara already felt bad for them.

“Someone! Explain!” Swept in with the next set of floral waves, none other than Cat Grant had arrived on the scene and now stood—sour expression and matching hands-on-hips stance—amidst the chaos, turning her gaze on each of them in turn, trying to spot the culprit amongst her staff. “What is happening here, people?!”

No one moved. Kara didn’t even blink.

“Delivery, ma’am,” one of the delivery people huffed into the silence, and Kara could see Cat’s chest expand in a very, very deep breath.

“My good man. That much is obvious, isn’t it?” She turned her glare on him, and the poor guy nearly let his bouquet slip from his fingers and fall to the ground. “Delivery... _for whom_?”

There was a pause. It stretched and stretched, while everyone waited for the man to speak again and break the dreadful suspense. When he failed to do so in a timely enough manner, Cat—side-stepping three other men and two delivery carts—simply reached into the biggest bouquet for the cream-colored envelope sitting there, and took it out.

Frowning, she turned the envelope over in her hand and Kara, watching intently over the rim of her glasses, saw that it was sealed. Sealed with an actual wax seal, the same color as the flowers: a pale lavender.

Cat licked her lips, hesitated, then broke the seal, her eyes skimming what was inside and growing wider and wider—in time with the smile that had begun to curve her lips upward, turning her frown into a bemused expression—slowly but steadily. When she was done, she signed for the delivery, then shooed the delivery people back toward the elevators with a hand gesture, and looked up.

It was so quiet, Kara would have been able to hear the dust in the carpet cough, if she tried.

“Kara!” Cat’s voice struck like lightning, and people’s heads turned to see it hit. “Kara, come here, please.”

Everyone was breathing, their hearts beating fast in their chests, but in Kara’s ears it was all subdued, as if the sounds were submerged in actual water instead of drowned in a sea of flowers.

“Oh. My. God.” Nia’s little squeak was barely audible. She nudged Kara, but Kara’s attention was riveted on Cat Grant, standing there, outnumbered by flowers and fanning herself, slowly and deliberately, with the cream-colored envelope.

She tapped her foot. “Today, Kara.”

Someone passed off a dry chuckle as a cough.

White noise between her ears and jelly in her legs, Kara got to her feet, nearly falling over them and bumping into the edge of her desk. _What? Who? … Why?_ She stumbled forward, feeling all eyes on her and suddenly hyper-aware of her body and how it moved in space; of her blouse sticking to her back under her faded cardigan; and of her full bladder.

Wading through discomfort and flowers, she kept her head down, fiddling with her glasses as she went.

“So,” Cat said, as Kara had almost reached her, holding out the envelope for Kara to take. It was soft to the touch and a lot heavier than expected. “Where do you want these?”

Wait— “What?”

“Where do you want these?” Cat asked again, more slowly, amusement sparkling in her eyes. She pressed her knuckles to her lips to trap a laugh. “Well…?”

Kara felt her mouth falling open. “I—” She swallowed, hands clutching the envelope and all but ripping it to shreds by accident in her mindless panic, so she hastened to adjust her grip and smoothed it out gently, fingertips tingling from the velvety feel of it. “I—I guess, here’s... _fine_?”

Her voice had gone up three octaves, and the whole of CatCo erupted into cheers and laughter, tension relief forging ahead and clapping like thunder in the enclosed space.

Cat’s small frame was shaking with badly suppressed, silent laughter. “I must say,” she struggled to get the words out in a dignified manner and paused. “I must say, Kara, I’m impressed.”

Oh...kay? Kara let out an insecure laugh that sounded more like a yelp. Sucking in her lower lip and biting down on it, she looked around, only now taking in the whole… _situation_.

They were standing in a sea of flowers, yes, but what marvelous, spectacular flowers they were! Kara’s vision blurred with pale lavender as she let her gaze roam over what must be several… _hundred_ beautiful roses. She reached for one and, fingers trembling, pulled it from the nearest bouquet, not even noticing when she pricked her finger on a sharp thorn, because it wouldn’t draw blood. The rose—It was… stunning. From its large, star-shaped bloom to the unique, lovely color. Rich lavender with blush pink undertones made it sparkle with depth. It was radiating with a special, enchanting beauty that had Kara gasp for air like, suddenly, there wasn’t enough of it left around her.

“If this is what following your… dating tips gets you, then, personally, I can’t _wait_ for that article,” Cat said. “Also, bold choice.”

“Uh—” Feeling like she was missing something vital to the conversation, Kara looked down at the rose and the envelope again. “Thank you?”

“High standards _and_ aspirations. I like it.”

Kara was lost.

When she opened the envelope, she found a note in unfamiliar handwriting. Black ink on cream-colored paper—who still wrote longhand these days?—and she frowned, eyes zooming in on the words, trying to decipher the pretty cursive.

 _Dear Kara_ , it said. _Please forgive me, because I honestly cannot remember if you’ve actually given your whole name or mentioned your place of work, but given the nature of the evening, I presumed and presumed correctly, and, after our encounter was, so unfortunately, cut short, I wished to properly thank you. I hope you like roses and good food and won’t object to my company. Looking forward to seeing you again. xo._

It wasn’t the message itself that had Kara gape like a fish out of its element—because her brain was still in the middle of processing all that—but the signature. The note was signed:

Lena. Lena… _Luthor_.

Kara felt herself flush hot, then cold, hands flying to her stomach and folding over it protectively as the world spun on its axis.

“Back to work, everyone. Circus performance is over!”

Kara barely registered Cat’s voice through the ringing in her ears and didn’t even flinch when she felt someone link their arm through hers, looking up in a daze to find none other than Cat Grant leading her back to her desk and safely depositing her in her chair, before she wordlessly turned on her heels and vanished, presumably to the peace and quiet of her own office.

“What was _that_?” Nia’s voice was too loud to be drowned out. “Tell. Me. Everything.”

No way would Nia Nal let an unexpected flower delivery pass her by without discussing it in depth, but all Kara could do was shake her head weakly. Her heart had dropped into her stomach and was wreaking havoc, and her skin felt like it had been turned inside-out.

“Shit. You okay?”

 _She had sent her flowers_. Hundreds upon hundreds. That meant she must have gone to the florist in person, picked out the flowers, stood at the counter, and composed the message to her, penning it in that…exquisite handwriting. Kara’s heart gave a weak flutter from its current position and all that did was make her more nauseous. Part of her wanted to scream, wanted to jump up and whoop with joy, but the other half of her brain was busy shouting ‘Luthor! Luthor! Luthor!’ in her ear, making warning bells go off in her chest, their deep, ominous sound reverberating in her bones.

She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t.

Kal-El— _Clark_ , she corrected herself—would never forgive her.

“Kara!”

Kara blinked in surprise, finding Nia’s face inches from her own, slight panic in those warm brown eyes.

“Fine,” she croaked. “... Am fine.”

“Like hell you are,” Nia muttered, pressing a glass into her hand. “Here you go. Drink up.”

The cold water felt good on her dry throat, the sensation tethering her to her body again.

“Lena… Lena Luthor sent me those,” she said, still a little hoarse, and Nia’s eyes went wide again.

“Get out,” she breathed. “ _Lena Luthor_? As in... _the_ Luthors? As in crazy, murderous, evil brother who—”

“Lex Luthor, currently rotting in maximum security lockdown. Thanks to Superman.”

“Yeah. Him. But also, the Luthors are from Metropolis. Their whole… like, empire is there, their base of operations. What’s she doing in National City?” Nia took a reluctant breath. Only because she had to. “I mean; Luthor Corp has divisions everywhere. There’s one right here in National City, too, but—um, Kara. That’s… that’s actually... a lot.” She sank back in her chair and looked at Kara.

“Mm-hmm.”

“What are you gonna do?”

Yeah, what was she going to do? Kara’s eyes fell on the single rose and the opened envelope on her desk, and she chewed her lip, picking the envelope back up and turning it upside down to shake out the note. As she did, something else fell from it, and Kara blinked at it, confused. Two strips of thick, glossy paper, shaped almost like the old-school movie tickets that the only movie theatre in Midvale still used, with classic lettering and a fancy business logo.

“No way!”

Kara had no clue, but Nia apparently knew what those strips of paper meant, because she was on the edge of her seat again, staring down at them in disbelief, her eyes flickering up at Kara briefly, right back down, and then up again. “Kara. … Kara, do you know what these _are_?!” she asked, voice thin from excitement. “Holy...” She shook her head. “Man, you can’t even get these as a… _normal_ person. They are—”

“Nia.”

“Uh, right, sorry.” Nia cleared her throat, sitting up a little straighter. “Those are tickets for _Nautika_ , Kara.” She laughed and added, “That new place at the waterfront? Where were you during Wednesday’s meeting, hmm?”

Oh. _Oh_.

“The fancy place that—”

“The _President_ ate there last month,” Nia said, as if that settled it. And it kind of did.

They both gazed at the unassuming scraps of paper on Kara’s desk for a moment.

“Wow, Kara.” Nia laughed. “I mean, _wow_. Teach me your tricks, Sensei?”

That actually made Kara smile. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” she said.

“Well, keep at it, because it’s working.”

They both laughed.

“A date. A date with Lena Luthor, huh?” Nia quipped after a moment, and Kara’s stomach was in knots again.

Was this what it was? But… but she couldn’t have meant, ... surely, it was all completely… and, either way, Kara couldn’t _possibly_. A Kryptonian and a Luthor?—She could see Clark’s disapproving glare now. And yet—She could at least thank Lena for the flowers and return the tickets in person, couldn’t she? Come up with some excuse and apologize profusely?

“I—I don’t think I can,” she said, reaching for her trench coat draped over the back of her chair and gathering the envelope and tickets in her hand, sliding them into a pocket.

Nia looked alarmed. “Hey, I didn’t mean to… spook you, or anything.”

Kara smiled at her. “I know. There… there’s just something I have to do.”

She had to do it. And she had to do it now, before she changed her mind or her legs gave out from under her again. Rushing past rows of roses, she strode towards the elevators, nearly crashing into William on her way out.

“So, I guess, this means she's hooked?” He said, hands in his pockets. “Well, Congratulations, Danvers.” He patted her shoulder—and Kara, still too stunned and too preoccupied to do anything about it, just let him. “Didn’t know you had it in you.” He grinned, his eyes giving her the once-over again. “Here I stand corrected. Winner takes it all. You are on a whole different playing field. Touché.”

He laughed, and suddenly, Kara felt too exhausted to—verbally—throttle him. She just smiled, reflexively and tight-lipped, and, ducking her head, brushed past him and into the waiting elevator.

Out on the curb, Kara pulled out her phone and her third stick of gum in under two minutes, and, after checking bus routes and schedules, decided to just take a cab to Luthor Corp. It wasn’t far—and the sooner she got this over with, the better.

“Um, excuse me, you can’t go in there—”

Kara knew that she had no right to march right past the receptionist’s desk like nobody's business and that the sensible thing would have been to call ahead and schedule a meeting—or for her to have dealt with this matter entirely over the phone in the first place. She was also well aware that her press card was a far cry from an all-access-pass to a Fortune 500 company, but she—and the stinging bees in her belly—didn’t care right now.

Before anyone could stop her, she knocked, and, without waiting for an answer, pulled open the large wooden doors to the room that had ‘L. Luthor’ written on the ivory door plate next to it.

“Kara—!” Surprised, but looking pleased nonetheless, Lena Luthor got to her feet behind a large white desk, giving Kara an eyeful of her whole outfit—black pencil skirt and black blazer over a ruby-colored V-neck shirt.

Kara stopped short, her brain finally catching up with her, and she stood, speechless and mortified for a second, her eyes sweeping the spacious office before landing on Lena’s face again. What, in Rao’s name, was she doing here?

“Lena.” She bit her tongue, her manners getting the better of her in the formal setting. “Miss Luthor—”

“Lena, please.”

Behind Kara, the receptionist skidded to halt on the polished floor. “I swear, I just blinked and she got right past me, Miss Luthor. She’s so fast.”

“Lena, I’m sorry, this is my fault,” Kara said quickly. She felt bad for having gotten the blonde woman—what was her name again?—in trouble. That was against the code. And, even as a reporter, she still felt bound to it. She shot her an apologetic smile, then turned her attention back to Lena. “I just need to talk to you.”

“Eve, will you make a note downstairs that Kara Danvers is to be shown in right away whenever possible?”

“Yes, Miss Luthor.”

“Really?” Well, there went… _a lot_ of her thunder, Kara thought, perplexed. “Thank you.”

“It’s good to see you again, Kara.” Lena smiled at her. “I—I had hoped Friday night wouldn’t be the last time we talked.”

Seeing Lena in the flesh, Kara suddenly felt very much the same. But she couldn’t say that out loud, could she? This wasn’t what she had come for.

“Although, if you're here unannounced…” Lena said slowly, waiting until her assistant had closed the heavy doors behind her again. “Then…” She gestured for Kara to take a seat, and sank back down on her own chair. “Is something wrong?”

“Uh, well…you see,” Kara spluttered, hand flying into her pocket to squeeze Lena’s note. “I—um. It’s—” Kara ducked her head. She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t do it.

“I know why you're here,” Lena said. “You wouldn’t be here if my last name was Smith.” Her voice was suddenly hard, but with a brittleness to it that made it break on the next words. “But it’s Luthor.” She sighed, her face falling a little. “That’s… a problem, isn’t it?” She was still smiling, smiling bravely, but Kara was sure she was putting up a front, because, when she’d said it, Lena’s eyes—her beautiful, mesmerizing eyes—might have been the saddest thing she had ever seen in her life— and it made Kara’s heart go out to her.

“No!”

She faltered at a quirked eyebrow.

“Yes. But… but I was just… _surprised_. That’s all.”

Oh, Rao. That little hopeful smile might be the death of her. “If… if it makes you feel any better, it wasn't always,” Lena said softly. “I was adopted when I was four.”

“R-really? Me too. I’m adopted as well!” Kara blurted out, and Lena gave her a genuine smile. They exchanged an understanding little nod of recognition, and something warm and gentle uncoiled and stretched out in Kara’s chest, purring softly.

“I know what the Luthor name stands for,” Lena said slowly, turning in her chair and gazing out at the city through the tall windows behind her. Was that a balcony? “My brother's serving 32 consecutive life sentences. When he went on his reign of terror in Metropolis, declared war on Superman, committed unspeakable crimes—” She took a shaky breath, her chest heaving as if burdened by unpleasant memories. “I… I was crushed.” She looked back at Kara, and Kara’s ears went hot at the sight of unshed tears brimming in her eyes. “He… he’s my big brother, Kara, but—but that… that doesn’t make me like him.” Her gaze swept the room for the length of another exhale. “I'm… I’m just a woman, trying to make a name for herself outside of her family. Can you understand that?”

“Yeah,” Kara breathed, deeply moved at such a heartfelt display of vulnerability and integrity.

“All I’m asking is… give me a chance, Kara?” Her pleading, desperate tone went straight to Kara’s heartstrings, playing them like a violin. “I'm here for a fresh start. Let me have one.”

Kara nodded. “Absolutely.” Thinking, she paused. “So, if you’re new to National City—”

“Just moved here,” Lena said, perking up. “I don’t know anyone or anything… yet.” She raised her hands as if caught red-handed. “Totally… impressionable. And open for suggestions.”

She wiggled her eyebrows, and Kara laughed.

“This is me trying—albeit badly, I’ll admit—to make…” Her eyes searched Kara’s face, a new intensity to her gaze that made Kara flush and squirm a little in her seat. She should have taken off her coat before sitting down. “Friends, connections. And begging for… help from a local... a local girl... and, and for some… company.”

“What about… Andrea?” Kara bit her lip. “You were at the Port together, weren’t you?”

Lena’s eyes narrowed for a second, then sparkled with an emotion Kara couldn’t place. “Yes. If you must know, I was dragged on that outing against my will and better judgement.” She shook her head, smiling. “Andrea… well, she’s... lovely, but she can be… a lot. And she doesn’t know the word no.” She laughed. “She’s an old friend. We went to boarding school together. We… only recently reconnected.”

Boarding school. Fancy. Interesting. Kara sensed there were quite a few stories there, but they didn’t know one another well enough yet for her to flat-out ask Lena about them.

“Ah, I see,” she said instead, smiling politely. “So, … there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for those… over-the-top restaurant tickets that I couldn’t possibly accept.”

“Yeah.” Lena sucked in her lower lip, casting her eyes down, and Kara’s heart all but stopped instantly at the sight. “I heard it was the place to go, so… so I wanted to go with you.”

But… but why?

“Really?” Kara laughed. “I’m… flattered?”

“Well, you can’t just come in like a white knight, saving a suffering damsel in distress from utter agony and not expect… a reward,” Lena quipped, leaning on her desk, chin resting on her hands as she gave her a look— but Kara heard her heart stutter, which, in turn, made her own heart start and then race off like a startled hare. 

“It… it was a band-aid!” She spluttered.

“That band-aid saved my life,” Lena said stubbornly. “I have the scars to prove it.”

“Pfft, that was… nothing.” Kara chuckled, not sure if she was swatting away the commendation or fanning herself with that hand. “Don’t… don’t even mention it. Honestly.”

“You’re my hero, Kara Danvers.” Voice deep and earnest, Lena batted her dark lashes at her and Kara— Kara suddenly found she would agree to whatever came out of that pretty, slightly pouty, mouth next. No matter what. “Come have dinner with me? … Please?”

Clark and, quite possibly Alex too, would kill her for this; kill her for… dating the sister of Earth's most notorious alien-hater. Well, not actually _date her_ , date her, but the point stood. Then again, Lena wasn’t Lex, wasn’t her brother, and she deserved to be judged on her own actions and merits. And, really, what was one dinner? One teensy-weensy dinner that no one else needed to know about? One dinner out with someone… someone as nice as Lena?

“I— I’d love to,” Kara said, a little breathless. “Thank you.”

That earned her another dazzling sunrise-smile from Lena, and Kara found herself gazing helplessly, drawn to Lena’s pure and open joy— like a child to their favorite ice cream flavor on a hot summer day.

They sat in silence for a moment, looking at one another across Lena’s desk, before Lena shook herself out of it first and called for her assistant. “Miss Tessmacher, I need you to come in here, please.”

“Would… would Wednesday evening suit you?” She asked, and Kara didn’t even have to think about it or check her schedule on her phone, before she nodded enthusiastically.

“Wednesday is perfect.”

“Wonderful. I’m looking forward to it.” Lena smiled, then turned to her assistant, who had come running at her call immediately and looked eager and ready for about anything— no doubt, in an attempt to make up for her previous blunder with Kara.

“Yes, Miss Luthor? What can I do for you?”

“Eve, I need you to make some calls. Get me a table at Nautika for Wednesday, if at all possible, and block out my evening? Thank you.”

“I’ll get right on it, Miss Luthor.”

When the door had closed behind Eve a second time, Lena leaned back in her chair and looked at her; a slow, comfortable smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“So,” Kara said, just having thought of something else and shifting in her seat, but her train of thought was dangerously close to being derailed again when she realized that Lena’s eyes seemed to be tracking her every move. “Uh, so, my office is … is overflowing with flowers.”

Lena tilted her head to one side, her fake-frown morphing into a cheeky grin. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

They both laughed.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did.” Lena’s eyes never left Kara’s, and, only when Kara had to look away—to keep herself from blushing scarlet—did she notice the adorable dimples. “How else was I supposed to—” Lena’s chest heaved with a deep breath. “Convey my deep gratitude and appreciation for your heroics?”

“Okay, okay.” Kara held up her hands. “Thank you. They are… beautiful,” she said, recognizing defeat and giving in. “But you gave everyone quite a show, you know.”

A deep throaty laugh—so very different from the girly one Kara had noticed before, but just as perfect and pleasant on her ears—filled the wide open space between them.

“I aim to please,” Lena said.

Her shy smile wasn’t nearly as radiant as one of her roses, but it held beauty all the same. Beauty, grace, and a gentleness that belied her poised and highly reserved exterior and spoke of a vulnerable heart of gold, currently beating a fast staccato in her chest.


	5. The Date

The rest of her Monday and the whole of Tuesday and Wednesday simply flew by, and by Wednesday evening, Kara was back at the waterfront once again, but feeling like she had just landed on a whole new planet somewhere in a distant galaxy. As she stood, waiting for Lena to arrive, her gaze swept over the water and the last of Wednesday’s light vanishing at the horizon, and her heart—delicate creature that it was—was both aflutter with nerves and tethered to the moment in a newfound weightiness, anchoring her to Earth in a way she’d never experienced before.

“Kara!”

At the mention of her name, Kara turned, and there was Lena. Sweet, beautiful Lena, standing on the curb in front of a fancy black car in yet another stunning dress and dark heels.

“ _Miss Danvers_!” Lena said, her eyes doing a quick up-down-up. “You clean up nice.”

That was a flat-out lie. At some point during the last few hours, left to her own useless devices and without Alex’s sorely-missed help, Kara had simply given up and put on a clean button-up shirt—the white dotted one she didn’t have to iron—a pair of green fitted dress pants, and a skinny belt, and called it an outfit. In the hopes of saving at least some of it, she’d then pulled back her hair and braided it into a nice pattern, twisting it into a knot at the nape of her neck when she was done.

She’d thought about perfume then, looking at herself in the bathroom mirror and rubbing her neck, but decided against it.

Lena, however, had reached a different conclusion, a soft powdery whiff of something flowery and sweet hitting Kara square in the face as she reached over and took Kara’s hand in hers, lacing their fingers together.

“Shall we, then?” She grinned.

“Yep,” Kara said, wondering whether her hand was too sweaty in Lena’s, and whether Lena could tell. What if it bothered her? “Let’s go,” she said brightly, pulling Lena closer and linking arms instead, and Lena’s surprised giggle was music in her ears.

“Likewise, by the way,” Kara said as they walked toward the entrance, whispering the words near Lena’s ear and meaning them. “Likewise… _Miss Luthor_.” Lena’s dark green dress was killer. Or maybe it was just Lena. And, wow, those piercings in both her ears, sparkling like the night sky? —Kara counted at least five in Lena’s right ear, and her own heart fell into step with Lena’s fluttering one.

Inside Nautika, Lena was greeted by name, and they were immediately led through by a tall waiter in a tux, Kara craning her neck to catch as much of the beautiful interior as possible as they followed him further and further back into the restaurant, passing rows of elegantly-set tables, almost all of them taken.

“This way, please, Miss Luthor,” the waiter said, and Kara caught the slight accent this time, placing him as a Brevakk at once. And, sure enough, when she looked closer, there were little bulges concealed by his collar and around his shoulders and elbows, hinting at the presence of spikes underneath his skin. Kara smiled. “Best table in the house. Please.”

They took a sharp left, went down a flight of stairs, and crossed a long and narrow, electric torch-lit corridor, before finally stepping through an arched doorway and into what looked like an underground tunnel. Only, this one was made from glass and had to be right under the basin—or, judging by the colorful sea life swarming about—right under the open ocean, next to the reef.

“Oh!” Lena’s grip tightened on Kara’s arm, and Kara’s head turned to see the bright blue-green of the water reflected in her eyes as she gazed up at the glass ceiling. “Oh…” She swallowed hard, and, slightly confused by her racing heart and the nails digging into her arm, Kara patted Lena’s hand reassuringly, wondering what had possibly prompted such a strong reaction, and why it seemed to be terror rather than the amazed joy she herself felt, but coming up short for answers.

“Please. Enjoy your evening.”

Kara thanked their waiter, and they sat down at a table for two, Lena shooting worried glances at the curved, transparent walls and roof—as if expecting it to cave in any second and drown them instantly.

“Did you know this was designed in _New Zealand_ , by a design consultancy specializing in… large aquarium works?” Kara asked, skimming the laminated card on the glass wall next to their table, fastened right underneath the black lamp, as she spoke. “They constructed and assembled the structure in Singapore and... shipped it here in one... almost 300-ton piece. On a huge ocean-going barge with its own crane on board. And then... lowered it down and stabilized it with… with sand ballast before... fixing it into position near the reef.” Kara looked up to find Lena looking at her, brow still slightly furrowed, but shoulders and heart-rate going down. “Golly, isn’t that fascinating?” She laughed. “We’re… we’re five metres below the sea level, Lena.” She tilted her head, frowning at her own words. “Is that a lot?”

“16 feet and... 4 7/8 inches, so sixteen-five—when rounded to the nearest whole inch.”

Kara let out a surprised laugh, and Lena blushed, a bashful smile on her face as she looked down at her hands in her lap. “That’s… that’s not what you meant.”

“No, but thanks anyway,” Kara grinned. “How do you… convert so fast?”

Lena gave a half-shrug, lifting one shoulder and letting it fall. “Just… happens,” she said, sounding almost apologetic.

Kara felt she really wanted to lean across the table and tip Lena’s chin back up, but, of course, didn’t act on the impulse, waiting instead, and with bated breath, for Lena to look up of her own accord again.

“I… I wasn’t expecting this,” Lena said after a moment, slowly running a hand over the warm wood of their small table. It was the same as the paneled floor. Soft and warm and inviting. “Should have done my homework.” She blew out a breath. “Everyone had to be gushing for a reason, right?”

She laughed softly, and Kara’s eyes caught a glint of something silver on her arm as she gestured widely. It was a silver bangle, the knot pattern repeating over and over around her slender wrist.

“The view… is kind of… breathtaking, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Beautiful.”

Feeling Lena’s eyes on her and the warmth of color invading her cheeks, Kara quickly looked up at the ceiling, gazing through the fantastic window into the blue waters—shimmering with fish and turtles—then let her eyes wander around the room. Although probably crazy popular, the space was relatively small: it could only seat—Kara quickly tallied wooden tables and off-white chairs—ten people at a time. The interior was much more simple than that of the dining area upstairs, and on their table was nothing, but white plates and silver cutlery, two napkins held by wood rings, and two leather-bound menus.

“So,” Kara said, reaching for one. “The food here… supposed to be really cool?”

The varied menu consisted of a blend of international and extra-terrestrial cuisine, with relatively normal dishes such as yellow-fin tuna with lemongrass and dipping sauce, Angus beef with truffles, or king fish with langoustines, but Kara also spotted Hellgramite Haggis, Aellon caviar served with dill sour cream and lemongrass blinis and—she had to bite back a grin— Roast Babootch with compote and green grape consommé.

Her stomach growled in anticipation, and her heart did a little somersault in her chest when she spotted the dessert menu in the back. It was just as indulgent, with Bolivian cru sauvage chocolate and lime panna cotta with coconut or Alstairan Sunshine sorbet and aerated chocolate, macaroon stuffed with Red Saturnian berries, or lime and limoncello custard. Her eyes growing wide, Kara nearly lost it at the various ice cream and cake options that you could mix-and-match to your heart’s desire, and had to close her menu to collect herself.

She wanted one of everything.

“I wonder what that is,” Lena muttered, eyes still glued to her menu.

“What what is?”

“Number 34. Under main courses, seafood.”

Kara opened her menu again, thumbing and skimming until she had found what she was looking for.

“Oh, Qarian Starfish.” Her mouth watered around the name on her tongue. “It’s… it’s somewhat like... lobster,” Kara said without thinking about it, and added a hasty, “My… adoptive mother knows a lot about, about … aliens, alien species.”

“Fascinating,” Lena said, only half listening it seemed. Phew. “Well—” she looked up at Kara, mischief twinkling in her eyes. “I will, if you will.”

“Okay.” Kara grinned right back. Here she sat with the youngest of the Luthors; a girl who would gleefully dig into an unfamiliar alien dish just for the fun of it. A very spicy alien dish. “You jump, I jump, Jack.”

She’d meant it as a joke, but Lena’s face went pale—even paler than her usual shade of pale—and her jaw clenched, back teeth grinding as she averted her gaze with an abrupt turn of her head, her jugular standing out on her neck.

Kara felt red-hot panic erupt from her stomach and into her mouth.

“You… you don’t like the movie?”

Lena sighed. She was still staring out into the vastness of the ocean, eyes glazed-over and not even seeing the swarm of large blue fish that swam by. Kara watched her bite on her thumb nail, an apology already forming in her brain, but the words got stuck behind the lump that had formed in her throat, and she stayed silent.

“No, no. I do,” Lena said after another long moment had passed, shaking her head and turning her attention back to Kara. Her chest expanded in a shaky breath, blotches of red blooming on her skin like raindrops falling on white sand. “It’s... it’s nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing, but Kara wouldn’t pry and she wouldn’t push. “Okay.” She licked her lips. “So, starfish. Yes, or no?”

“Yes,” Lena said. “Definitely yes.” And, as warm color returned to her cheeks, Kara let out a breath, slumping a little in her chair. “Red or white with that? What do you reckon?”

Kara didn’t have the faintest idea.

“Hmm. If it’s anything like lobster,” Lena said slowly, tapping a finger to her lips. “No heavy, tannic reds.” Pausing and laughing at Kara good-naturedly, she went on to explain further, saying, “Potentially weird flavours. Better go white or rosé, to be safe. A rich non-vintage Champagne with a good amount of reserve wine, perhaps? _Heidsieck’s Brut Reserve_?”

Kara didn’t understand a single thing she was saying—and she was usually great with foreign languages—but she hung on Lena’s every word nonetheless, smiling sheepishly.

“I also love _Smaragd Grüner Veltliner_ from the Wachau in Austria,” Lena said, clearly showing off to impress her now. “Especially for steamed lobster with butter and herbs. Enhances the richness of the meat.”

“So, you like lobster,” Kara said. “And wine.”

“I do.”

It made sense. Metropolis was on the East Coast. Lobster dishes were a whole thing there. One time, on a trip visiting Clark with Eliza and Alex over their summer break, they had eaten—or rather tried to eat—boiled lobsters at a picnic table at a lobster shack and made a glorious mess of it all, getting sauce and lobster bits everywhere. After the feast and the food fight were over, Eliza had just rolled up the mess inside the newspapers and tossed it into the garbage, and Kara and Alex had spent the rest of the car ride back to Metropolis bickering in the backseat, picking pieces of lobster out of their hair. They never quite got rid of the smell after that and Eliza never got the deposit on the rental back.

After they had ordered, the drinks arrived almost instantly and it didn’t take long for the food to be brought to their table either. It was fresh and piping hot, the steam heavy with the heady aroma—both earthy and salty.

“It’s… it’s _purple_?!” Lena said, staring down at her deep purple starfish.

“I should probably have warned you,” Kara said, biting down on her lip but releasing it again with a soft pop to laugh. “It’s also very spicy... from what—what I… heard.”

_Oof._

Lena looked at her plate, at Kara, then back at her plate again, and, with an utterly adorable expression of stubborn resolve, reached for her napkin and cracker.

The starfish was still within its shell. Eating Qarian Starfish was pretty much like eating lobster—the shell, the cracking, the inevitable mess; the napkin or plastic bib, juices funneling straight to your lap, the meat inside the claws and legs. You had to twist off the little claws and knuckles—which connected the claws to the body— first, then twist off the legs one by one and crack them with a cracker to get to the juiciest bits.

Kara knew there was only one simple truth to cracking open a Qarian Starfish: there was no polite way to do it—but Lena didn’t seem to mind.

“Get it! Get it, Lena!” Kara laughed as Lena struggled with a particularly thick leg, pressing down on the cracker with all her might to crush it, her lips pressed together and brows furrowed, until the shell finally gave way with a satisfying crack.

“Yeah!”

A smirk on her face, she tore the meat—pale pink—with her fingers, dipping it into the warm butter, and plopped it straight into her mouth.

“Oh… my….” Lena’s hands flew to her mouth, but she didn’t cover it, and Kara watched her eyes go wide, the black of her pupils expanding and edging the vivid green aside in slow motion. “Mmm, mmm, mmm.”

Presentation wasn’t important, but—despite the cracking and the greasy hands—Lena ate her starfish with so much dignity and grace that it was absolutely ridiculous; while Kara was cracking shells and spraying starfish shrapnel through the air. Half their table was already covered with fallout from her snapping stuff in half. Despite her mess, dinner seemed to go rather well, though, and her heart soared at the sight of Lena enjoying herself.

“So, what do you think?” Kara asked after a while of noisy, messy silence.

Lena swallowed, sucking on her thumb and two fingers, before her face split into that devilish grin again. “About the food, or—?”

Kara held her gaze this time, cracking another leg and slipping the blade of her knife into the joint, deftly slicing the shell from the inside moving outwards, and then popping out the meat.

“Both.”

Savoring the juices and the texture of the sweet, tender meat dipped in salted butter as it melted on her tongue, Kara watched as a wave of warmth rushed up Lena’s neck and broke over her cheeks, staining them a deep, sultry red as she took a long sip of her wine. 

“This is delicious…” Lena said slowly, her hands poking and picking, fiddling with a leg to get at the meat. “A rather messy bit of business…” She raised the leg to her mouth to suck the succulent starfish and savory sauce from the shell. “But then, most… _pleasures_ are.”

Licking her lips, she leaned forward, her dress hanging from her shoulders and hugging her form, and, when she raised heavily made up eyes at Kara, Kara’s gasp was lost under a loud crack, a starfish leg splintering right in her hand.

“And, I’m still deciding,” Lena breathed, fixing her with a look that burned itself into Kara’s skin.

A rush of excitement sent fresh color to her cheeks, her roaring blood flashing from comfortably warm to unbearably hot and trailing heat all over her body, and Kara tore her gaze away from Lena’s, focusing her attention on the massacre on the table instead while trying and failing to calm her senses and her rapid heartbeat.

“Anything I can do to help?” she rasped.

“Yeah, you could answer some questions for me, actually.”

“‘Some’ sounds a little too indefinite,” Kara said, risking another glance and finding Lena still watching her, elbows on the table and chin resting on idle hands. “I’ll give you three.”

Lena’s lips parted slightly, but she didn’t speak, and Kara loved that look— that look where her lips were plump from eating and her cheeks were flushed.

“Where…” Lena bit down on a knuckle. “Where are you from?”

Kara balked at the question, her mind screeching to a halt— then pushing off again to go a hundred miles a minute.

“M-Midvale,” she said, a hand flying to her glasses. “Not far from here. It’s where I grew up.”

Lena cocked her head. “Hmm… You’re a reporter, right? Have l seen your work?”

“I work at CatCo, as you know.”

“CatCo Magazine.” Lena nodded, steepling her fingers. “Forgive me, but a publication not known for its hard-hitting journalism. More like ‘ _high-waisted jeans, yes or no?_ ’” She grinned, and Kara didn’t take the comment personally. Lena was right.

“Yeah, something like that.” Kara’s heart was still beating unevenly in her chest, but this was no longer a tricky area and she slowly began to relax again. “I have a Bachelor's in Marketing, but I’m trying to break into journalism. Writing is my calling, my boss loves me—on most days, anyway—and if I do it her way for a while, I can write about anything l want. Someday.”

Lena smiled, her teeth assaulting her lip and leaving temporary streaks of white in the lush pink. “Which is?”

“Politics.”

That had Lena’s sharp eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and Kara felt a little taller.

“Anything in particular that you are interested in?” Lena asked, her eyes scanning Kara’s face with rekindled curiosity—as if her answer had thrown something off kilter that now required further testing and review before recalibrating.

“Right now it’s AAA—”

“The Alien Amnesty Act.”

Kara nodded. “But really, I just want to make sure _all_ voices are heard and… and that _everyone_ gets a place at the table, you know?”

“Saving the world one article at a time.” Lena’s smile turned soft—like a warm, cozy duvet—and Kara heaved a silent sigh, her own lips mirroring the upward motion. “I like that.”

They gazed at each other over cooling starfish and ugly debris, the visual wonder of the coral reef and its inhabitants on the other side of the glass quite forgotten. Kara wanted to freeze time, her focus on Lena’s sparkling eyes, the gentle blush coloring her cheeks, her pink lips, and the soft dark curls framing her face like framing a painting of her in Kara’s mind. And she wanted, more than anything, to stay in this moment and look at it forever. 

“What about you?” She whispered softly into the silence, her eye’s searching Lena’s and finding nothing but warmth there.

“What about me?”

“What… what do you want, Lena?” Kara clarified, something in her chest opening up and longing, wanting, _needing_ to know the answer. “In life, I mean? You must have… dreams?”

Lena’s mouth fell open, her eyebrows drawing together in something akin to shocked bewilderment, and, as she leaned back in her chair, Kara felt a tug on the invisible string that had ventured out and fused with Lena’s over seafood and laughter and long looks, pulling her forward.

“I—” Lena said, keeping exceptionally still. “I don’t… know.” She laughed high in her throat. “That’s a little deep isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I suppose so,” Kara said, a bit disappointed, but not quite sure what she had expected. “So, you think you got _me_ all figured out by now, then?” She teased, desperate to lighten the mood. “No more questions?”

“Almost.” Lena smiled, taking the bait and taking it gladly. “Still got one last question.”

“Shoot.”

Lena licked her lips, the watery green of her eyes all ablaze with something Kara couldn’t read. “True or false: All is fair in love and war.”

Kara’s heart was loud in her ears as warmth flooded her and crawled up her cheeks, deepening the color that was already there.

“True,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... I blame the starfish.


	6. The Diary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Let's go to the movies](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GsV3Hnl2bvc)...

The next time they met, it was late Friday afternoon and they were giggling down the rain-kissed sidewalk. The first movie in the original Jurassic Park trilogy awaited them—in one of National City’s state-of-the-art movie theatres; for Classics’ Friday. They had both seen it before, of course, but that wasn’t the point.

When the lights above the lobby came into view, blurred by sudden cloudburst, they broke into a little jog, Kara sprinting ahead and swinging round a lamppost like Gene Kelly, belting out her favorite part of _Singing in the Rain_ and putting on a little show, her feet tapping the ground; a big smile plastered on her face to make Lena laugh. She bowed, pulling off her imaginary hat, and offered her arm to Lena, who took it, and the two of them skipped past the new releases posters on the outside wall and up the puddled steps, worn in places by hundreds of excited moviegoers, the light from inside illuminating each one like melted stars.

Despite her wet clothes and dripping ponytail, Kara couldn’t have wiped that smile off her face if she tried. She loved everything about this. Her mind still somewhere in the old-movie-magic of the 1950s, she looked at Lena—happy, carefree, laughing Lena—a beautiful girl on her arm that she was... _courting_ , off to see a _motion picture_ someplace downtown, and Kara’s heart glowed as it melted like fresh butter on popcorn.

Patting Lena’s arm and turning a deaf ear to her feeble protests, Kara paid for their tickets at the box office and led her to the auditorium, their steps cushioned by plush red carpet.

The movie theatre auditorium was abuzz with excited talk and laughter, the soft notes of the medley from the movie _Picnic_ playing in the background. Children on tiptoe stared at the old-school popping machines, grinning and pointing for their crunchy snack. The aroma of fresh popped corn and hot dogs drifted over, and Kara could physically feel the concession beckoning, calling out to her in pleasant smells and brightly-coloured candy in smart rows, and it took every ounce of her self-control not to pull on Lena’s arm like a little kid. 

She licked her lips. “So, … what would the lady like?”

Everything was bright and fast-moving and absolutely _delicious_ , until Lena slipped her hand in hers and squeezed lightly. Then time stopped. Kara’s stomach turned unhelpfully and she felt her skin turn clammy as goosebumps scattered across it.

“Surprise me.” Lena lit up into a smile—and what could Kara do but follow suit. If Lena was the sun, then Kara was the moon.

Biting her lip, she nodded, and let go of Lena’s hand. With an “I’ll be right back!” she turned on her heel and walked backwards a few steps, her eyes resting on Lena—Lena in a dark shirt and skinny jeans, hands clasped and head tilted—and nearly bumped into a small group of people, a tall guy pulling his date out of harm's way at the last second.

Kara blushed, a hand flying to her head and then her heart as she apologized profusely, and her neck prickled, feeling Lena’s gaze on her and Lena’s sweet laughter filling her ears. She hop-skipped the rest of the way, then joined the snaking queue, foot tapping in time to the music and eyes scanning the mouth-watering treats on display.

Of course, there was popcorn—fluffy and hot— in plain, buttered, sweet, or salted. She could even have gotten caramel or peach or coconut, but didn’t know how Lena stood on ridiculously, artificially-flavored, so she opted for one sweet and one salted, turning her attention to her candy options next. She was very aware that she was holding up the queue, but the decision was impossibly hard to make, and so she ended up with the popcorn, two sodas, a hotdog, cheesy nachos, and a bulging bag of candy, packed to the brim with: Skittles, Starburst, Gobstoppers, Swedish Fish, Sour Patch Kids, and strawberry licorice sticks and pencils poking out almost all the way. She had even thrown in some Tootsie Pops, chocolate gold coins, and candy jewelry—just to make sure and to cover all her bases—but skipped the candy corn—because she didn’t know Lena’s stance on that either.

Balancing her haul on a paper tray on one hand, careful not to let anything fall or spill, she returned to Lena, who was waiting for her next to the showroom doors and, mouth falling open in an incredulous expression, covered her face with her hands, laughing, before she shook her head and led the way through, movie tickets to yesteryear’s blockbuster poking out of denim pockets.

Smiling to herself, Kara followed, the cool and semi-dark of showroom two engulfing her in a pleasant embrace. Kara loved going to the movies. Even though she was twenty-five, she still felt like the over-excited teen she had been when she first walked through a movie theatre door with Alex and Eliza and saw the big screen and the velvet curtains. Back then, during the years growing up in Midvale, she had liked to always get there early enough to snag her favourite seat, then would sit there, hugging her family-sized popcorn until the movie began.

They were pretty early now too, and Kara stood for a few seconds as she always did, taking in the rows of gently arced, red velvet seats, and sampling the popcorn. The sweetness had to be just right. A smile stretched her lips as the kernel dissolved in her mouth.

“Kara?” Lena stood, in the middle of a row, one hand on her hip, eyebrows raised, and Kara—breaking out of her thoughts—hastened to get to her.

“So, you like the movies.” Lena said, grinning. “And the snacks.”

Kara grinned right back. “I do.”

That had to be the understatement of the year. Movies were her not-so-secret, earthly pleasure—and food? —What would her life even be without the sugary and fried goodness this planet had to offer?

Lena settled onto the seat on Kara's left and, kicking her heels off, tucked her legs beneath her, and Kara—hesitating for a second—handed her the sweet popcorn.

“Thanks, love,” Lena said, the term of endearment slipping from her lips and setting Kara’s face instantly ablaze. She dug out a measured fistful, then held out the bucket to Kara. “What do you like most about it?” 

Kara shrugged. Her entertainment wasn’t analysis—she didn’t like picking movies apart to death, like Alex did—but purely the joy of being sucked into the story, riding along on the crest of a literary or cinematic wave until the climax, before unwinding, and returning to normal life. “I just love a good story, I guess.” She laughed, setting down the rest of the snacks on the empty seat to her right, leaning over to place their cups in the holders, and then snuggled deep into her seat, balancing nachos and candy on her lap. With soda to her right, a plethora of tasty snacks within easy reach, and Lena sitting on her left, all was right with her world. “And the snacks… cherry on top.”

Lena laughed. “I only have one rule: Either read the book or see the movie, but not both,” she said, turning in her seat as far as comfort would allow. “Many people like to soak in the novel first and then their fun is in dissecting and comparing the plot, analyzing the characterization, and bemoaning casting errors—” She rolled her eyes, then scrunched up her nose most adorably. “Not for me. Ruins both the book _and_ the movie.”

“Yeah.” Kara nodded.

“And I don’t watch movies twice.” She grinned. “Well, with _some_ exceptions. Obviously.”

“Really?” Kara threw a handful of candy in her mouth. “I could watch a good one over and over. In fact—” She swallowed. “That’s exactly what I _do_. Drives my sister mad.”

“You have a sister?”

“Yeah. Alex. She’s a pain in my butt, but I love her.”

“That’s… nice.” Lena’s smile was soft, maybe even a little wistful, but before they could discuss the merits and pitfalls of big sisters in greater detail, or Kara could ask the question that burned red-hot on the tip of her tongue, the music stopped and the lights dimmed, telling them the movie was about to start any moment.

Kara heard the doors creak open and fall shut as the last few stragglers—sodas and tubs of popcorn in hand—made it to their seats just in time for previews. A preview for Titanic rolled first—remastered, 3D—and Kara glanced at Lena, who seemed to be entranced by it, her glistening eyes riveted on the big screen. Watching Lena’s chest heave with a longing sigh, Kara knew with absolute certainty what they would be doing at this exact time, a week from now. After Titanic, it was Jumanji, followed by Forrest Gump, Men in Black, and Star Wars. Smirking, Kara made a mental note to drag Alex to see Men in Black, and plopped a nacho into her mouth.

In the darkness between previews and the start of the movie, happy chatter and munching swelled up and had Kara almost miss the way Lena’s heart rate spiked, but, as she turned her head to see what was up, all she could see was Lena’s hand sneaking onto her lap and into the candy bag, coming away with a candy bracelet and some red licorice.

Silly. It was silly, but her cheeks warmed, anyway.

She looked around. The previews were finished, the opening credits were running through the opening scenes of the movie, and most couples had snuggled up—arms around shoulders, hands being held, and sweet-and-salty lips being kissed. Glancing at Lena, Kara swallowed, but didn’t move, one hand frozen deep within her popcorn while the other twitched nervously on her lap. She could reach for Lena’s hand, probably, if she wanted to, but then—then what?

And so they sat, eating the popcorn and sipping on soda, and Kara was muttering, “Well, you know, it's good special effects.”—Jurassic Park, _wonderful_ special effects, right?—and promptly being shushed by Lena, who apparently, wasn’t a movie talker, and was watching the people on screen explain how to create a live dinosaur from an insect trapped in amber with a look of utter concentration and a slight crinkle between her brows.

Kara bit her lip and stuffed her mouth with candy.

She was looking at the screen and hearing the dialogue, but, somehow, not taking a single thing in. It didn’t matter. She knew the movie already. Her eyes kept drifting to Lena and, as the movie went on and on, she couldn't help but notice that people around them kept hugging and kissing each other—this wasn’t a rom-com, in Rao’s name! —her heart pumping helplessly in her chest and faint rushing noises blocking her ears.

Kara almost reached for Lena’s hand twice, but chickened out, and it wasn’t until a pale, soft hand reached for the candy bag at the same time that she did, that Kara finally grasped her chance by the collar, and went for it, noting—with a soft purring sensation rumbling low in her chest—how Lena’s heart jumped in her own.

The showroom was a hush and would have been silent—were it not for the steady consumption of the concession snacks. The only light was coming from the movie, and reaching into the candy with her free hand, Kara fished out a licorice stick and tapped Lena on the shoulder with it, nearly dropping the damn thing when Lena simply opened her mouth for her and let Kara feed it to her, her grin curling around the candy stick as her lips did just that. Still grinning, she steadied it with her left hand and ripped it in two.

They stayed like that, hands linked and fingers occasionally braiding and unbraiding; with Lena’s hand squeezing Kara’s as the T-Rex made its debut, and Lena scooted closer, while Kara quickly moved snacks out of the way.

Closer to the end, the movie was so action-packed that their eyes were glued to the screen and they sat, engrossed, barely noticing the popcorn that failed to make it to their slack mouths, heart rates rising and muscles tensing as they watched breathtaking scenes and top-notch acting, paired with—aforementioned—superb special effects that still held up.

Kara chewed her popcorn, throwing it in handfuls into her mouth to make up for the drop.

When the screen fell to black, Lena's body became rigid and her other hand flailed for Kara’s as she buried her face in her shoulder. Silences never lasted long in movies; they were merely tools to play up the drama; effective ploys—depriving the senses of light and sound for just long enough to get an emotional response out of you once the tension broke.

As the vicious velociraptors took the spotlight, the next moments were of maximum intensity: loud, bright, fast, shocking. Lena was back in her seat, sitting ramrod-straight, her eyes open wide. She was squealing with every scary scene until near the end, when the raptor almost grabbed the heroine from behind, and she almost jumped into Kara’s lap then, hiding her face against Kara’s chest instead. Biting back a fond laugh, Kara’s arm tightened around her as she ran reassuring circles on her arm with her thumb.

Lena was so adorable—wide-eyed and flustered—that, after the movie ended and the end credits rolled, Kara wanted to pull her into a proper hug, and—after a moment’s trepidation—just did.

“I’d hate to cross paths with one of those… _things_ in the dark.” Lena mumbled, shuddering against her.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Yes, I _know_. But… if I _were_ , if—” She bit her lip. “If I woke up to one of those… _fucking_ velociraptors inside my bedroom, or something—”

“I wouldn’t let that happen.” Kara said before thinking about the implications of her in Lena’s bedroom. “I—I’d protect you.”

Lena lifted her head and quirked a brow at her that said ‘Oh, _really_. And you’d do that how exactly?’

“I— I can be…” Kara trailed off, thinking about how she’d blast those damn dinosaurs with her freeze breath, before roasting them with her heat-vision on high—like prehistoric pigs-on-spits. “I’m… stronger than I look.”

She had never used her powers like that. She hadn’t used her powers at all since she’d been a teenager, but, after a whole adolescence of watching superhero movies where monsters attacked humanity and humanity did a, sometimes brilliant, but mostly terrible job at defending itself, she kind of felt prepared for anything. Especially, if anything was evil, was a creature, and was standing in Lena’s bedroom, snarling dangerously.

Lena smiled. “You saved me once. I have no doubt; you’d do it again.” She chewed her lip. “Just— just promise me, if we ever found ourselves up against… monsters from the Jurassic period, you wouldn’t let yourself get eaten on my behalf. I— I couldn’t bear it.”

Kara laughed. “Promise.”

Lena reached for her face then and kissed her on the cheek. It was a kiss so soft and sweet, her lips leaving a buttery, glossy pink mark on her skin, that Kara didn't even have the chance to think: What if I had turned my head just then? — And lose her mind over it.

They must have untangled at some point, left the showroom—taking all their trash with them, of course, and throwing it in the trash can—walked back into the auditorium, and stepped outside, but Kara’s mind was on standby and her belly putting on a sensational acrobatic dance number, and, strolling the sidewalk arm in arm once again, she barely even registered Lena’s voice, only half-listening to her ‘guess what?’ story.

“I—I don’t understand why they reopened the park,” she said suddenly, her mind jumping to the sequels, so it wouldn’t jump to much more dangerous territory.

“Money,” Lena said, without hesitation.

“Okay, but why… why do people still _go_?”

“Stupidity.”

They looked at each other and laughed.

Sometime between then and Kara unlocking her apartment door, they had shared a cab and made plans that involved burgers, yoga, and National City’s Museum of Fine Arts, before going their separate ways, and, turning her key in the lock, Kara already missed Lena’s presence, the weight of her hand in hers, and the sound of her voice and laughter in her ears.

With a sigh, Kara pushed open the door, dropped her bag on the table, and shrugged off her jacket, throwing it over a stool, before she plopped down on the couch, pulling her comfy quilt towards her and throwing it around her shoulders like a cape.

She’d half made up her mind to call Alex—she felt she would combust, if she didn’t talk to _someone_ about it and soon—but then decided against it. As soon as Lena’s name would come up—her _full_ name—Kara wouldn’t hear the end of it, and she wasn’t ready for that conversation. She wanted to stay in her happy bubble, ride that sugar high for as long as it would last, and damn any and all consequences—that might or might not come of it—just for a little while longer.

Growing frustrated and slightly dizzy from her thoughts chasing their own tails in her head, she finally got up and—dragging her knitted cape behind her—shuffled into the bedroom and went straight for the dresser. Pulling it open with a little too much force, she rifled through her sock drawer until she had found what she was looking for: A notebook. It had aged slightly from sitting in drawers for years, the cover and edges a little battered, but the crisp white pages were still unsullied, waiting patiently for words to bleed onto them—they had waited for roughly 11 years—and Kara bit her lip, holding it to her chest as she went back to the couch—picking up a pen from the table on her way.

The notebook had been a gift from Eliza, given to her on her first Earth Birthday, but back then—still in too much pain and too much turmoil over the loss of her planet, her family, and her old identity—Kara had simply tossed it aside. She hadn’t had the words.

Now, over a decade later, she found she had too many of them, and they were threatening to boil over any second—boil over, hissing and spitting, flooding her from the inside—and that called for drastic measures.

Holding her breath, she fingered the cover, tracing the pretty, elaborate pattern that adorned it, before she cracked it open and inhaled the soft, calming smell of old paper, books, and libraries—a smell that faintly reminded her of her mother; her mother working late in her study with Kara half-asleep on her lap—warm and comfortable and safe—and it brought tears to Kara’s eyes and a tremble to her hand as she picked up the pen.

Thinking of her mother—her face, her eyes—she put pen to paper and began to write.

 _Dear /ieiu/_ , she wrote, using the vocative ‘Mom’ and the proper noun punctuation when writing out the word in Kryptonian. _I met… a girl. Her name is Lena._

Before she knew it, she had covered several pages in looping handwriting and convoluted sentences that ran on for half a page sometimes, and her hand cramped as she scribbled and scribbled word after word—and symbols where the words failed her—until she had said everything she wanted to—everything she _needed_ to—ending her one-sided letter in a breathless, untidy, _I like her, Mom. I really like her_. And, thinking about the cab ride home and how her mind kept pressing a steamy fantasy of _backseat bingo_ on her whenever she went back to it, she went on: _Maybe, I even like her, like her… like that_. Then, with slow tears still falling from her unblinking eyes and rolling down her cheeks, she snapped the diary shut, kissed the cover, and leaned down to stuff it under the couch—hiding it from view and prying eyes—her face burning hot and her useless hands brushing helplessly at her stupid tears as she straightened, and then slumped back against the cushions with a long sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, take [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cRzEbWtRH20), add Melissa -[Muppet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vurMR6J8Fm4)\- Benoist, and feel my pain. Thank. 
> 
> Oh, and have [another playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4uQw0LCYm5Dk3rDY6xA2MC?si=UuK7NRdRR2OJlp8_RcQZ0g), while we're at it.


	7. The Promise

The weekend passed unbearably slow, but the following week seemed to fly by in the blink of an eye.

Kara, distracted, found herself at her desk daydreaming more than she was working and—going against her gut—guiltily wrote up some of her notes on the dating piece to feel like she didn’t let Cat down completely. Especially since she had already broken a copier and snapped her desk lamp in half by accident. Her notes were vague, the tone of the article-in-progress more detached—to protect Lena or herself, she wasn’t sure—but it felt entirely too private going into gushing detail on her work computer at CatCo. That, she saved for the evenings, for her mother and her mother alone, the pages of her diary quickly filling with blow-by-blow retellings and treasured keepsakes.

She told her mother about silly things; like how Lena was the only person that made yoga class tolerable. Normally, her mind much too restless and fidgety, Kara quickly grew bored of the slow movements and endless repetitions, but, watching Lena arch all the way back in a perfect _Kapotasana_ —an extremely deep backbend—it had suddenly become her favorite type of exercise and held her attention the entire 90 minutes, because—even in casual workout gear and with beads of sweat trailing down from the nape of her neck—Lena was the epitome of grace and poise, copying the instructor’s movements down to a T and nailing each and every pose. Kara couldn’t help but be in awe of her balance and flexibility.

A National City Fine Arts Museum ticket taped to the opposite page, Kara went on to describe how she had arrived to pick up Lena at Luthor Corp on Wednesday and been shown, not to her office, but right into a spacious lab. Lena had been wearing a white lab coat, which had been slightly too big in the shoulders and misbuttoned by one, revealing nothing of what she was wearing underneath, but for a silver torque looped around her neck, drawing Kara’s eyes to her collarbones. Her black hair had been loosely pulled up into a messy bun piled on her head, and Kara had been content just watching Lena work for maybe half an hour, or so, longer—gosh, she was smart—before deciding that it was well past lunchtime and ducking out unnoticed to return with a selection of Big Belly Burger’s finest in a flash.

She told her mother about Lena’s failed attempt at gracefully eating a burger—she’d never had Big Belly Burger before! —and how, while continuing her work—scribbling notes on the high-end smartboard and almost taking a bite out of her pen instead of her fries—she had made Kara laugh so hard, she nearly choked on her strawberry milkshake, because Kara knew, her mother could relate and would find it funny. How many evenings had her father done the same for Alura—bouncing a sleepy Kara on his hip, as he brought her dinner to wherever she sat, nose buried in a great tome or half hidden behind piles of paper—and, after tucking Kara in, had kept her company, watching her work deep into the night. Her mother, of all people, would understand.

Prying Lena loose from her work had proven a little difficult—Kara suddenly understood her father’s ubiquitous patience, permeating every one of her memories of him, much better—but, ultimately, the two of them had made it out of Luthor Corp and to the museum, strolling the cool halls and admiring the artwork, Lena showing off her extensive knowledge of art, and history, and art history—with Kara admiring more than just the piece of art in question at a time.

On Thursday, Kara had shown up for lunch on the dot—gently coaxing a protesting Lena away from her desk for some sun and fresh air outside—and hot crêpes with chocolate and sprinkles (Kara’s idea), followed by fresh smoothies (Lena insisted) at the open-air market. As they walked past stalls, laughing and chatting happily, pointing out produce, baked goods, and knitwear to one another, Kara’s heart hummed like a honeybee and, feeling bolstered by the sun on her face, she took Lena’s hand in hers, playfully swinging their linked hands between them like kids on a swing set.

They had passed a bookseller’s stall then—a little squeal escaping Lena before she could hold it back—and that had been that; and the rest of their lunch break had been spent with Lena—sunglasses pushed up on her head and sleeves rolled up to just over her elbows to browse the many rows of books with diligence and expertise—running her fingers over broken spines and digging through cardboard boxes under the tables, making many trips to and fro, until she had amassed an impressive pile, paid for it, and stood—hands on hips, admiring her prized pickings, face aglow with pride and satisfaction.

Of course, a moment later, it had fallen comically—once Lena had realized, she couldn’t very well carry all of her new books in her handbag and that even carrying the box, that the seller so helpfully provided, all the way to Luthor Corp would make for a herculean task. Kara had simply laughed, brushed Lena’s concerns aside with a bright smile, and picked up the box—it hadn’t been _that_ heavy—to carry it for her. Lena’s lip had been trapped underneath her teeth almost the entire way back as she shot worried glances in Kara’s direction every other step. Kara had just beamed at her, part of her brain entertaining the silly notion of how this was almost like high school and how she’d watched so many boys do the same for Alex back then—carrying her books or bag to and from classes or to the cafeteria for her. Little had they known, but, then again, neither had Alex. Or maybe she had?

Thinking about Lena’s impressive book haul, Kara paused, her pen hovering over the page. Lena had picked out a varied selection of battered paperbacks and heavy hardback bricks, her interests ranging from biographies to historical fiction and spanning all the way to astronomy, genetics, and old science textbooks and medical works of reference. She and Alex would probably take to one another like fish to water—if Kara could convince her sister to think of Lena as _just_ Lena.

Heaving a deep sigh, she looked down at drying ink and, not for the first time, wished the pages could talk; wished for her mother’s voice to answer her questions and offer reassurance and advice from in between the lines.

Leaving the remainder of the page blank, she moved onto a new one, talking about her day—uneventful Friday at CatCo and lovely evening with Lena. They’d met up for the movies once again and this time, Lena had barely touched her requested bag of red licorice, because she’d been so wrapped up in the epic romance and utterly heartbroken over its tragic ending in icy cold water, her flushed cheeks glistening with tears, while Kara had munched on her popcorn, wondering—not for the first time—why the heroine couldn’t just have scooted over on that stupid door and pulled the love of her life up to lie beside her until help came and rescued them both. She would have done, probably, or at least would have tried, but she also understood Jack’s sacrifice. For the people she loved, Kara would have done the very same thing—in a heartbeat, no regrets—and gladly sunk beneath the waves, giving her life to save theirs.

Lena had said _Titanic_ was her favorite movie and—after some gentle poking and prodding from Kara—gone on to explain that, no, she didn’t mean that what she wanted was to go down in the early morning hours of a cool April day in the North Atlantic Ocean, four days into the ship's maiden voyage from Southampton to New York City, and freeze to her miserable, sad death, but that she really liked the idea of travel—sea not air—of going on an adventure, nothing out ahead but blue ocean, and to never return home, but come ashore someplace exciting an entirely new woman—free to explore and invent herself all over again, taking on a name of her own choosing; a name that was all her own, no strings or dead weight attached—and Kara understood; maybe understood more than Lena meant her to, probably, and had to be careful not to crush her in the inevitable hug that followed. Of course, given the choice, Lena would want to shed the Luthor name and start over somewhere new. Lena was nothing like the Luthors; nothing like her brother Lex. She was kind and soft and gentle—and the burden of her family name probably threatened to crush her every day of her life. Kara knew a thing or two about that.

Before she could attempt a digression into what it felt like to be the last daughter of Krypton, however, there came a loud knock at her door, and Kara jumped, dropping her notebook into her lap.

 _Oh, shoot—ing star in the skies_.

Alex.

“Kara!”

For a moment, Kara just sat, frozen on the couch, then hastily returned her notebook to its hiding place and rubbed at the ink stains on her fingers.

“Kara, I know you can hear me.” Alex lowered her voice. “And you can see me.” Her knuckles rapped the door again, drumming out an impatient rhythm. “Now, open that door, or I will.”

Alex had both a spare key and, most definitely, the strength to kick it off its old hinges, if she decided to do so, so Kara untangled herself from her blanket and hurried to open it, before Alex could do any damage.

“There you are!” Alex held up two take-out bags and a pizza carton. “I brought pot stickers and double-cheese pizza. Just in case. — What’s going on?”

“Going on?”

Walking past her into the apartment, Alex shot her a look.

Kara took a step back, looking at her bare feet. “With—with me?” She laughed. “Nothing’s… going on with me.”

“You’ve been MIA since the Port, Kara.” Alex deposited the food on the table and turned to face Kara fully, crossing her arms and scanning her top to bottom, before she fixed her with her best stare—the one that made Kara’s ears grow hot and her mouth usually instantly fess up to whatever was at the tip of her tongue anyway. “Last I heard you had that work party coming up and then—nothing. It’s been two weeks. So—spill.”

“I—I was… busy.” Avoiding Alex’s gaze at all costs, Kara ducked her head and busied herself with unwrapping and opening bags and containers, then taking her sweet time to get plates and cutlery—rummaging an extra minute or two for the heavy duty pizza cutter.

“Busy doing what?”

Alex was like a dog with a bone. Maybe it was time to bite the bullet. No time like the present, right? Kara glanced at Alex, rubbing the back of her leg with her foot, pushing up one leg of her pyjama pants. “I… I kind of... met someone—”

“Figured as much.” Alex laughed, walking over to the fridge to get herself a cool root beer. “Didn’t take you for the type to forget friends and family _exist_ once you’re in a relationship, though.”

The cutter swerved in Kara’s hand, cutting the pizza in zigzag pattern. “I’m… not in a… in a…”

“Okay, okay. Call it whatever you want, but—” Alex threw herself onto the couch and patted the spot next to her. “Come on, I’m dying here.”

Kara hid her face behind her hands for a second, but then picked up the plates and carried them over to the coffee table, before sinking down on one of the chairs, drawing up her knees to her chest, and hugging them. This was Alex. Her big sister. It would be okay, wouldn’t it?

“I—we actually met at the Port—”

Alex sat up at once, resting her elbows on her thighs as she leaned forward. “Wait. That girl from the bar? The... Latina? What was her name again?”

“No. Not her.” Kara shook her head, not even able to picture herself with someone like Andrea. “Not Andrea. Her... friend.”

Alex smirked. “The plot thickens.”

“Alex!”

“Sorry. So you met Not-Andrea at the Port,” she said, trying to get Kara to pick up the loose thread and fill in the blanks. Then she frowned. “When?”

“Not… really. I mean, she was _there_ , but we didn’t talk until the CatCo party—” Kara let go of her legs to gesture vaguely, her feet hitting the carpet with a soft thud.

“Hold up. She was at the Port _and_ CatCo?”

“Yeah.”

Alex seemed to roll that over in her mind for a moment, and Kara bit her lip, wondering what questions would come next and feeling wholly underprepared for this pop-quiz.

“Okay, so… you didn’t ask her out, did you?” Alex grinned. “Because I… I just can’t picture it. You could barely string a coherent—”

Kara felt herself inflate like a pufferfish and automatically reached for a pillow, throwing it at Alex’s head. Miss Reflexes-of-the-galaxy, Alex Danvers, just caught it with her free hand and tossed it right back.

Kara stuck her tongue out and hugged the throw pillow tight. “No, I didn’t,” she mumbled into it. “She… I gave her a band-aid.”

Alex cocked her head. “A—”

“And then she filled my office with thank-you flowers.” Kara buried her face in the pillow as Alex barked an incredulous laugh.

“Incredible. I don’t—” She set her drink down and shook her head. “What kind of flowers?”

“Roses?” Kara’s voice was small, rising on the single word like it was followed by a good dozen question marks in her head. Well, it kind of was, because—she hadn’t thought about the flowers again until now and—why were they… _roses_?

“You’re… you’re _kidding_ me, right?”

Kara shook her head. “Nope. Like...maybe three or four hundred roses?”

Alex looked at her, speechless for a moment, hand covering her mouth.

“Really pretty ones too. Pale lavender,” Kara said, recalling CatCo flooding with flowers as her face flooded with heat.

Alex blinked, then burst out laughing, and Kara felt like throwing that pillow again, her grip already tightening on one corner.

“Sorry. Sorry.” Alex held up a hand. “You—you know what lavender roses _mean_ , right?” Reading Kara’s expression correctly, Alex—suppressing another laugh with all that she had—went on, explaining, “Means whoever she is went pretty… hard.” She grinned. “Lavender is for… love at first sight.”

Kara felt her jaw drop. Wait… what?

“Come on! Like that’s a surprise?” Alex laughed. “What did you think… hundreds of roses meant, Kara? That she liked you… a decent amount… in a friendly way?” Alex took a swig of her root beer. “I don’t believe this.”

Yeah, Kara had a hard time wrapping her mind around it, too. Lena… Lena liked her—liked her like that too? Had liked her from the very start?

“Have you told her about the article?” Alex asked next, effectively dousing Kara with cold dread that made her shudder. “You’re—you’re still writing that, right?”

Kara nodded, not trusting her voice to not give her away.

“Yes to the writing, the telling, or both?”

Kara shrugged. “I—I haven’t told her yet. I—” She made a helpless gesture. “I kind of thought…I haven’t even written it yet.”

Alex was shaking her head—kept shaking her head at her—and Kara felt the disapproval rolling off her sister in waves and latching onto her, crawling down her spine.

“But you’re going to write it, yeah?” Alex eyes searched Kara’s, her gaze breaking on something, flickering, and going soft. “Then you need to tell her, Kara.”

“I know.”

“Promise, you’ll do it?”

Kara didn’t quite understand why Alex was so adamant about this, but nodded anyway. She knew she had to tell Lena; tell her about the article, eventually, but… the longer she waited, the harder it got. It—it was complicated and she didn’t even attempt an explanation. She barely even understood a single thing herself anymore. Good luck putting that mess into words and stringing them up into something at least halfway intelligible, resembling a sentence in the English language that Alex could understand.

However, seemingly satisfied with her non-verbal assent, Alex leaned back and adopted a more relaxed position, drawing her legs up to sit criss-cross applesauce. She reached for a slice of pizza, the corners of her mouth drawing up into a smile as she assessed the jagged edge. “Okay. So,” she said around a mouthful. “Who is the mystery woman who’s apparently head-over-heels for my little sister?”

Kara hastily reached for the tray of pot stickers and stuffed two in her mouth at once.

“Kara?” Alex pointed her pizza at her. “You know I’m going to find out anyway.”

Chewing like her life depended on it, Kara looked everywhere but at Alex’s waiting face. She was right—of course she was right—but, oh Rao, this was hard. And horrible. And horribly hard. She swallowed. “There’s—there’s something else,” she said tentatively. “And you’re not going to like it.”

Alex untangled again, planting both feet firmly on the ground, and Kara felt stone-cold panic settle in her stomach. “Okay, what is it? What—what did you do?”

Kara shook her head, tucking one leg under her thigh and grabbing it with both hands. “Promise me—promise me you won’t get mad?”

Alex gave her a look. “You look like the puppy that pooped on the carpet.”

“Please, Alex.” Kara stuck out her pinky. “Pinky promise?”

Chin resting on one hand, Alex eyed her for a moment, before she leaned forward and linked her pinky finger with Kara’s. “Okay, Kara, pinky promise. I promise not to—Well, I’m listening.”

“Um, so… her—her name is… Lena.”

“Okay.”

Kara took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and—her heart jumping into her throat like a lit rocket on July 4th—she whispered, “Lena… Luthor.”

The effect was instantaneous. Her words struck like matches struck on the box and lit a fire that had Alex jump to her feet and knock over her drink. Kara could hear the friction, Alex’s sharp intake of breath, and the clonk of the bottle magnified tenfold, the sounds replaying in her head as the deadly silence fell.

Curling in on herself like a question mark, chin pushed into her chest, Kara hung her head and—waiting for all hell to descend upon her as soon as Alex had located her voice again—just sat there, her heartbeat loud in her ears. She’d… she’d really messed up, hadn’t she? Oh, Rao, help her now.

“Kara—” Alex’s voice was quiet and wound up to an unnaturally high pitch—and Kara knew it would split into a shout eventually. “What… what did you just say?”

Kara shook her head, eyes trained on the carpet. She—she couldn’t say it again. She knew Alex’s rage was like TNT; once the sparks started to sizzle there was very little time to duck and cover, and once lit, there was nothing she could say to put out the fire before it had run its course.

“Have you—” Alex blew out a long breath, before she finally exploded. “What were you thinking?!”

Heavy breathing, footfalls on laminate.

Kara risked a peek at Alex, who was by the kitchen table, beet red with hands stuck firmly on her hips, steam almost flying from her ears as she battled her temper. Alex wasn’t one to break a pinky promise, but Kara figured a Luthor was extenuating circumstances—and, maybe, a little too much for anyone to handle, if they didn’t know the Luthor in question like she did.

“Do you—Have you got _any idea_ how… how _dangerous_ that is?” Alex paced back and forth a few steps, then stopped abruptly. “Oh, my God.”

“Alex, I—”

“I need a drink.” With a dizzying turn on her heel and within a few strides, Alex’s hand was back on the fridge door. “Aren’t you… aren’t you scared, Kara?” Alex’s hand came away with a stout-bodied glass bottle, trembling as she poured herself a glass of the brown liquid that Kara didn’t even know was in her fridge to begin with. “Because I’m... _terrified_.”

It was unlike Alex to even confess to such a thing, and it broke Kara’s heart a little. She wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around her sister and make it all go away, but Alex’s shoulders were squared and her gaze wary, and Kara knew it was too soon. 

“I am… scared,” she said slowly, admitting it for the first time—even to herself. “But _good scared_. Like... like that moment right before you kiss someone for the first time. And now—now it's like... I'm not sure what comes next. Or maybe, I am sure and I'm just afraid of what it means. And if it means what I think it means—”

Alex held up a hand to stop her, and Kara fell silent as if struck.

“Kara, what if—” Alex downed her drink and slammed the empty glass on the table. “What if she… what if the Luthors figure out who you are? _What_ you are? It's just... It's not safe for you to do anything like that. With… her.”

“No.” Kara’s voice was firm, her own flame kindled and flaring up in her chest. “It’s not like that. Lena would _never_!”

Alex swayed her head. “You—you don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. You don’t know _her_!”

“No, I don’t.” Alex heaved a heavy sigh. “Look, I don’t want to ruin this for you—I really don’t, but Kara—”

“No!” Kara’s voice was as loud as Alex’s now.

“I’m just trying to protect you!”

“I don’t need to be protected, Alex! Not from… Lena.” She took a deep breath. Fighting with Alex was the last thing she wanted to do. Why couldn’t Alex just be happy for her? Alex of all people—

Alex scoffed. “Oh, but you _clearly_ do!” There was so much heat in Alex’s glare that anyone else would have shrunk from it, but Kara just answered it in kind. “What if… they _exposed_ you? To the world? Everyone will know about you and you can't ever take that back!”

“Maybe… I won't want to.”

Alex threw up her hands. “Well, don't say I didn't warn you.”

“Warning received.”

“Damn it, Kara! You don’t understand. I’m only looking out for you!”

“I—I won’t bend. Not on this, Alex,” Kara warned. She’d always held back, done what she was told, done what was—supposedly—best for her. Maybe it was time she decided what that was for herself. “I've always felt the need to help people, and when I finally get that chance—the chance to do more, so much more for those who need it? —I won’t care how I got it. I... I didn't travel 2000 light-years just to be a reporter. I—”

“You like your job!”

“I like Lena _more_!”

“You—” Alex opened her mouth, closed it again, then took a step towards her, defeated and visibly deflating. “You... _really_ like her, don’t you?”

The unexpected softness in her voice and gaze had Kara curl into a ball instinctively again, face hot and heart throbbing. Yes. Yes, she did. But… did she like her enough to… upend her comfortable little life and… risk everything? Risk revealing her identity to the world? Risk putting everyone she loved in danger? 

Exhaustion and confusion stinging in her eyes, she barely even registered Alex moving closer until she stood right in front of her.

“I’m your big sister, Kara,” Alex said, crouching down. “I’m just trying to do my job. And my job is—has always been—to protect you.” She lifted Kara’s chin with a curled index finger and made her meet her sincere gaze. “Everything… everything I’ve ever done in my life… it has all been to protect you, Kara. And I won’t stop now.” She swallowed. “But—but if this is what you want—what you truly want and… _who_ you want—then Kara, I’m here. I’m right here with you every step of the way, okay? No matter what. I promise.”

As Alex’s arms wrapped around her, her heartbeat loud in Kara’s ear when she settled against her chest, a sob broke way like a wave, washing over Kara from the inside out, and, in its wake, more followed, rolling in in sets of three or five and shaking her until Kara’s cheeks were wet and she had the hiccups. But it didn’t matter. As long as Alex was on her side; as long as she had her sister, they would figure it out—and all would be well in the end.


	8. The Photo

Kara felt exhausted. She had spent another weekend on the couch, but her mind had done the Ironman while she sat and blankly stared at the TV. More than once she had picked up her phone, determined to call Lena and tell her everything, but then chickened out. She just… didn’t know how to say what she needed to say and ‘ _I kind of got roped into this thing at work, but turns out I really like you? Maybe?... Do you like me too?_ ’ didn’t quite cut it.

She had to tell Lena eventually. And she would do it. Soon. But it was probably a conversation better started in person, anyway, so she’d wait until they saw each other again. Alex had suggested inviting Lena to the Port for another girls’ night out—she was _trying_ , and Kara loved her for it—but Lena hadn’t responded to her text yet. Well, she’d sent it at 3 a.m., so there was still time.

Kara wasn’t sure how she felt about going out with Alex and Maggie again; if she was ready; if they were. She didn’t even know if there was a ‘we’ to speak of yet—or if there would ever be—and taking Lena to the Port felt more... _official_ than any dinner at a fancy restaurant, lunch date, or movie ever could. Thinking about it had her thoughts run laps until her head spun and, burying her face in her pillow, she tossed and turned, trying and failing to hide from questions that she had no answers to. What were they—if anything? What did it all _mean_? What did she want it to mean? What were they to one another?

She’d awoken to the sun on her face, panicked, stepped into and slipped on alarm-clock entrails, shimmied into a pair of dress pants and hastily buttoned the first shirt she could grab from the clothes rail, and dashed out the door—wishing she could have just… up up and away-ed to CatCo, because she was more than fashionably late, Cat would kill her, and—of course—there was a disruption on the subway.

When she finally made it into the office, Nia was already waiting for her.

“Morning,” she said, pushing a sticky bun on a plate towards her. “This is cold, I’m afraid.” She nodded at the coffee cup on Kara’s desk, then grinned at her. “Your shirt’s inside-out, by the way.” She laughed. “Did your alarm clock break again?”

Kara just blew out a breath, shooting a worried glance at Cat’s office.

“Don’t worry. I covered for you.”

Nia was a godsend.

“Thanks.” She ran a hand across her eyes. “Weird night.”

Nia’s eyes and smile went wide simultaneously, and Kara hurried to take countermeasures before she would get the wrong idea. “I said _weird_ … as in… new moon or Mars in retrograde or something. Not… not… _Sleepless in Seattle_.”

“Pfft, I was thinking more to the lines of… _Moulin Rouge_.” Nia helped herself to a piece of sticky bun, breaking it off with her fingers and plopping it into her mouth. “Disappointing.”

Kara opened her mouth to retort, when William passed her desk, looking—impossibly—even smugger than usual, hair gelled back, crisp white shirt tucked into khaki pants, and an insufferable grin plastered on his face that turned wide and toothy as he turned his sunburnt mug their way.

“Morning, Danvers,” he said, biting back a laugh. “How’s that going?” He asked. “Didn’t take you for the kind to sleep your way up the ladder.” He shrugged, then barked a laugh at her expression. “You should… read more, Danvers.”

With that, and another smirk shot her way over his shoulder, he left them to frown at his broad back; and—without knocking—stepped into Cat’s office, closing the glass door behind him.

“What—” Nia looked as confused and disgruntled as she felt. “Was _that_?”

“No idea.” Kara shrugged, watching as William set down something—a paper? A magazine? —on Cat’s desk, and Cat pulled it towards her with a lukewarm smile, reaching for her glasses and putting them on her nose with a flourish. Her eyes flew over the page while William waited for her to finish, looking like a sea lion expecting an extra-large fish as reward for having performed a rather neat trick.

“I wonder what’s going on in there?” Nia had twisted in her seat to see better, but then turned back to Kara. “What’s he up to?” She yawned, stretching her arms over her head. “It’s… it’s too early for his bullshit. It’s only like...” She glanced at her watch. “Never mind.”

“Yeah,” Kara said, not taking her eyes off Cat. “Can’t be good.”

Kara saw surprise flicker over Cat’s features. Surprise that turned into annoyance, turned into disgust—William clearly had miscalculated—and Cat drew herself up to stand behind her desk, rolling up the newspaper and holding it out for him to take.

That was a clear dismissal, but William, as was his M.O., didn’t take the hint, and Cat’s face turned sour like a bag of lemons as she spat something at him that couldn’t be heard from the other side of the glass. Well, not unless—

Feeling the hot sting of guilt on her neck, Kara turned her ear toward the glass and concentrated to filter out all other sounds, fine-tuning her Kryptonian hearing to catch the conversation going on behind closed doors.

“That’s not journalism, Mr. Day. That’s sticky mud and libel,” Cat said, her voice cold and dismissive. “And it’s targeting one of our own.”

“It’s the Daily Planet, Cat.” If his lopsided sneer made Cat nearly as furious as it did Kara, she didn’t show it—while, if it had been Kara in her place, he’d left her office in a body bag—but Cat—for whatever reason—still seemed willing to humor him. “You’ve worked on their gossip column, haven’t you?”

“Youthful indiscretions.” Cat waved the words away like buzzing flies. “The Planet’s forays into yellow… journalism, gossip, and even sensationalistic photography—all part of an effort to attract tabloid readers who have, in the past, found it priggish—are most unfortunate, but do not come as much of a surprise. Our subscriptions, however, are up, so that’s a hard no, Mr. Day.”

She sat back down, and William gaped at her as she leaned back in her seat and tapped the paper against the edge of her desk.

“But, Cat— _Miss Grant_ —”

“And even if— _if_ —we wanted to run the story, we couldn’t use any of this.” Cat threw the paper back onto her desk, where it uncurled like a streamer. “CatCo Magazine, Central City Tribune, The Planet, and The Star all announced that they would no longer use paparazzi pictures in 1997. An agreement that CatCo—unlike some—still honors.” She held up a lazy hand to stop William from interrupting. “And even if her story's completely true, the mindless babbling of a teenage girl from, like, a decade ago, is hardly a serious threat on anyone’s reputation. The sources might be satisfactory for Perry White, but they’re not acceptable here. We’re a publication with dignity, not some ritzy tabloid from Metropolis.”

William crossed his arms. “Danvers is already doing the story, anyway. There’s no harm in blowing it up to get some… traffic—”

“That’s right. _Kara_ is handling the story,” Cat said, a finality in her voice that meant her patience was running out and running out quickly. “And she’s the one who gets to tell it.”

William glared at Cat for a moment, then—admitting defeat—reached for his newspaper.

“You can leave that here,” Cat said, putting a hand on the paper. “In case I need a place mat for my lunch later. The new girl isn’t quite clear on what ‘on the side’ means yet and I’m expecting another near-fatal drowning.”

William made a face.

“That should be all, shouldn’t it?” She waved William out of her office with both hands. “Find me if you need pointers on the Gala piece. I know the designer and would hate for her work to go underappreciated.”

“Of course,” William said, but it was a lifeless, automatic response. “Thank you for your time.”

“Oh, and William,” Cat said, her voice low and dangerous. “No one here speaks to the Planet, the Tribune, the Star, or any other publication about this. Is that understood?”

He left Cat’s office with his tail between his legs—Kara and Nia shared a delighted grin—and, muttering to himself, didn’t look at anyone or anything as he shuffled back to his desk.

“Well, whatever it was,” Nia said, still grinning. “Seems like it went South pretty fast.” She shrugged, helping herself to more pastry.

Kara bit her lip, unwilling to share what she had just overheard, but her mind buzzing with it all the same.

She had had no time to look at the papers this morning, had run right past her regular newsstand by the station without sparing it a glance, but if she had looked—looked at the newspapers and the tabloids, featuring photos of topless women, paparazzi pictures of the First family, horoscopes, sports, lottery numbers, and a little bit of actual news—what would their top headline of the day have been? A sinking feeling in her stomach, she turned to face her screen, but before she could even lay a finger on her keyboard to search for online publications, a sound had her freeze in her tracks and turn her head back towards Cat’s office.

Cat had left her seat and was knocking on the glass to get her attention. Once she had it, one finger beckoned wordlessly, and Kara swallowed hard. Cat wasn’t one for subtlety. This was bad. Really, really bad.

“Oh shit,” Nia whispered as Kara got to her feet. “What’s he told her now?” She put a hand on Kara’s lower back. “Holler if you need me. I’m getting out of the line of fire for a bit.”

Kara nodded, her eyes trained on Cat, who had picked up the copy of the Planet and was waiting for her, leaning on her desk with her legs crossed.

“Good… Good morning, Miss Grant?” Kara said as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her, making sure the lock actually clicked. “You—you wanted to see me?”

“Yes,” Cat said, rounding her desk to sit down behind it. She gestured for Kara to take a seat in one of the visitor chairs. “Sit.”

Cat waited until Kara had settled—uncomfortably—and, heart racing and clammy hands twisting in her lap, was looking at her, before she continued to speak. “How’s your sister?” She asked and Kara only just prevented her face from falling in an expression that would have given her away at once and gotten both her and Nia in trouble. “I hope she’s doing okay? Motorcycles are a deadly nuisance, like road traffic’s horse flies—”

“Yes,” Kara said quickly, her mind immediately jumping to ugly scenarios involving sirens, gurneys, and badly needed blood transfusions—and a needle that would not break her skin when it mattered the most. “Just—just a concussion. She’ll be fine. Thank you.”

Cat nodded. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“Adoptive sister.”

Something twinkled in Cat’s eyes, but when she opened her mouth again, her tone was all business and her words had very little to do with Kara’s family—even if they were still within the territory of her private life. “Well, if she’s able to sit up and read, she’s going to get an eyeful of you in the papers this morning.”

Cat slid the Planet across the table and Kara, mouth dry and face coming to a boil, looked down at the front page.

And—sure enough, there she was—headshot; her application photo from CatCo—and there was Lena. The largest photo on the page showed Lena in a form-fitting, beautiful dress, her hair tucked prettily behind one ear—she looked so young here; posture and expression reserved and shy, as if she didn’t understand why she was in the picture at all—and it took Kara a moment to realize who the other people in the picture were. Next to Lena, one hand firmly gripping Lena’s arm, stood her brother, Lex, and, on Lena’s other side, was a woman in a red pantsuit who could only be her adoptive mother. She stood, one hand on Lena’s shoulder, her posture rigid, almost regal, and her eyes were cold—so cold that, even looking out of a printed photograph, they made a shudder run down Kara’s spine.

“What—?”

Dazed and still not fully understanding, Kara’s eyes scanned the page for anything that would help her make sense of what she was seeing. They landed on the headline which read: ‘ _Heiress Astray—The Shocking Truth About Lena Luthor_ ’—which didn’t help the uneasy feeling in her gut one bit and had her quickly open the paper and thumb pages in search of the actual article, frowning at the unsettling implications.

When she had found it—a whole spread, long paragraphs broken by photos scattered across the page like splashes of color in a room with a black-and-white color scheme—Kara’s heart did a funny little hop-skip in her chest. This wasn’t a news story, it was malicious gossip, invading Lena’s privacy—and… and her own.

There was a picture of them in front of the movie theatre, and another that must have been taken when they had left Nautika—walking arm in arm, Lena gazing up at Kara as if she hung the stars, both of them oblivious to the presence of a photographer.

At the bottom of the page was a whole series; several close-up snaps from the market: the two of them laughing, enjoying their lunch, and holding hands. Lena hugging Kara, Kara carrying the box of books (you couldn’t tell they were books) with Lena walking beside her. And, there was Lena getting out of a cab and Kara entering CatCo; The two of them leaving Luthor Corp, and the museum, and the yoga studio together, flushed and giddy, both their bags and rolled-up mats swinging from Kara’s shoulder. This—and Kara hated to admit it—looked exactly like what it _was_. Only, somehow, seeing it in print made it _worse_ ; like it was all magnified through a looking-glass, the scrutiny burning holes into the happy and carefree and wonderful, and turning it into something scandalous instead; something that invited people to look and judge, allowing them to comment on the… _morality_ of something that was none of their gosh darn business in the first place. It made Kara feel sick to her stomach.

Beyond a paparazzi photo with herself—seemingly—peering almost… lustfully… down the front of Lena’s dazzling green dress, there was no proof of any sexual liaison between them, and yet, her eyes glued to the picture, Kara felt her stomach tilt and turn, as uncomfortable heat flooded her body. 

“It’s not worth reading,” Cat said, and, startled, Kara’s shoulders flew up painfully. “A whole lot of fabricated nonsense.”

When she finally tore her gaze away from the page, Cat’s soft one was waiting for her, her eyes warm and gentle, chin resting on folded hands as she studied Kara with an unreadable expression.

“Lena Luthor is a powerful woman from a notorious family. Youngest CEO of a Fortune 500 company in a century. Of course, there would be slander.” Cat clucked her tongue. “Well, _interim_ CEO, but the details are neither here nor there at the moment.” Fixing Kara, the intensity of her gaze went up a couple degrees, turning it imploring and urgent, and Kara felt her heart rate pick up accordingly. “She’s a public figure. And now the roaches are out for blood—which means, Kara, you might want to think about going incognito—dark glasses, silly hats—maybe take up martial arts or join a kickboxing class.” Cat sighed wearily. “These things can get ugly.”

“But—” Kara spluttered. “But we were just—That’s not… they—they can’t—?”

“They can and they will.” Cat’s voice was firm, but the small smile on her face made nonsense of her harsh tone, tinting it… almost sad. “In fact, they already have. And you need to prepare yourself.”

Prepare herself? Prepare herself for… what? Kara didn’t understand a single thing anymore. What was happening and… and why? “What—what are you talking about, Miss Grant?”

“Oh, Kara.” Cat heaved a sigh, looking at her as though she wanted to pinch her cheeks and give her a pat on the head. “Whether you like it or not—you’re a part of this now.” She looked away for a moment, knuckles pressed to her mouth. “That also means—if we, if _you_ want to get out in front and on top of this thing, you’ll have to act fast.”

Kara shook her head to get rid of the rushing in her ears. “I—I don’t understand?”

“Your article,” Cat said. “The ‘How to’ piece. You need to finish it and it needs to go to press as soon as possible.”

Kara gaped at her, her chest growing cold around the panic that had gripped her heart and the silent scream that was building up in her throat rendering her momentarily speechless.

“I— I can’t,” she croaked, thinking about how—even if she were anywhere near done with _anything_ —there was still the matter of not having told Lena yet; She had promised Alex that she would tell her, and she was nowhere near ready to make true on that promise. And—and what would Lena think, think now, if—

Cat’s warm hand on hers had Kara snap back to the present, her vision slightly blurry.

“Look,” Cat said, not unkindly. “It comes down to this: Either you tell your story the way you want, and you tell it now, or someone else is going to tell it for you.” Cat patted her hand. “It is your choice, Kara, but do not make it lightly. They will twist your words and they will silence you, if you let them. If you want any control over what is being said, over your reputation and privacy, the propriety of—”

A vile concoction of nerves and dread and fury bubbling in her belly, Kara nodded. “I— I need to think about it,” she said, her words trembling around the edges. “I also need to make a call.”

When she stepped out of Cat’s office again, her head swimming and body trembling with more emotions than she could name, all eyes were on her, and Kara knew, knew instantly, that everyone—everyone _else_ —had read the Daily Planet’s gossip column that morning.

Trying to ignore the blatant stares, the knowing smiles, and the loud whispers that followed her everywhere, Kara strode back to her desk, got her phone from her pocket and looked around, ultimately deciding on the balcony. It was a fish tank—everyone could still _see_ her, but, at least, they wouldn’t be able to overhear what was bound the be an awkward, hard, and—potentially—life changing phone conversation.

As she held the dialing phone to her ear with shaking hands, Kara was well aware of exactly how wrong this could go. However, she didn’t have a choice. The Planet—curse them to Daxam! —had made sure of that. She didn’t know what she would say or how she’d say it, but Kara knew that, if she hesitated now, she had already lost Lena—and that was a thought she couldn’t bear.

The phone rang, and rang, and rang—Kara pressing it to her ear so hard, it would break sooner rather than later—but there was no answer. Lena didn’t pick up. And neither did her voicemail.


	9. The Visitor

Sitting at the kitchen table, Kara rested her head in her hands. Outside the light was fading and fading fast, which meant her ears had taken over and her nerves flared up with every scream or car horn. Every time brakes screeched or a car door slammed, she sat up, breath held and ears perked, hoping against hope that there would come a ring or a knock on her door next; that the racing heartbeat filling her ears wasn’t just her own.

But no such thing happened.

The takeout that had arrived at her door just moments after she had—even when she hadn’t ordered anything—sat cold and untouched on the counter, her leg had fallen asleep, but she still didn’t move. She had sat down with her trusted diary and it lay open in front of her, patiently waiting for her to pour her heart out, but, so far, it had brought her no comfort or relief, and the pages remained blank—blank, but for a few penciled hearts.

Sighing, Kara glanced at her phone. She didn’t need to check. The only missed calls were from Alex. Lena hadn’t answered her phone or called Kara back and—if she had wanted to talk to her, talk to Kara at all, she would have done so by now. Which also meant, no matter how many times Kara called or how many texts she sent, they would all go unanswered.

She didn’t know what to do. Even if she had nothing to do with the Daily Planet’s smear campaign against her, Lena seemed to think differently. And, when Kara would come clean about the stupid article—an article that didn’t even exist yet—Lena would probably feel even more vindicated in her settled conviction that it was all Kara’s fault and had, most likely, been part of her devious plan from the very beginning. She just couldn’t win. Lena would never believe her now. 

If only she could turn back time. Or make it fast forward. Anything to fix it before it all went wrong or for one chance to do the right thing now— Kara wasn’t picky. Anything would be better than this; than the heavy feeling in her chest and the sharp pit in her stomach.

As she picked up her phone the screen lit up, but it only showed the same missed calls she had already let go to voicemail. No new calls, no new messages, no Lena. Swiping listlessly, willing for something—for anything—to happen, Kara stared at the screen. All she wanted was to hear Lena’s voice. She didn’t know how it had happened, but she had gotten too used to hearing about Lena’s day and would be wide awake all night wishing she could just call and whisper apologies in the dark until it all went away; until all was right again.

Outside a siren wailed and, rubbing her arms, Kara finally left her perch to check on the thermostat and close the window. The heat was set to 75°. Cold wasn’t usually something that bothered her, but right now, with doubt setting in like a storm rolling in off the coast, Kara put on the kettle and rose on her tiptoes to rummage for the tea. She didn’t much care for tea—kept some in the back of the cabinet only for when Eliza came to visit—but maybe a nice hot mug of chamomile or lavender would do her some good.

As she waited for the water to boil, her idle mind jumped back to that wretched spread in the Daily Planet. She regretted having bought her own copy on the way home. Cat had been right. It hadn’t been worth reading. All that had done, was make the knot in her belly even tighter and fill her with rage—rage on Lena’s behalf more than her own—and, Kara hated to admit it even to herself, it had also left her a little bit curious. If there was even so much as a germ of truth to any of it, that would still make a whole lot that she didn’t know about Lena.

A sudden strong gust of wind rattled the shutters and Kara whirled around, her half-finished thought shaken clear from her mind as a soft thud outside her door alerted her to the imminent arrival of someone she wasn’t sure she was in any condition to face right now.

Her fingers curled tightly around the box and, squishing the tea, she stared at the door, literally looking right through it, and, yep, no doubt about it. And no use hiding under the bed either—because Clark had already spotted her, too.

Suppressing a sigh, she dropped the tea on the table and went to answer the door.

“Hello, Clark.”

There in the hallway stood her cousin, straight as a ruler, in his most unassuming reporter garb, and a carefully neutral expression on his face as he inclined his head in greeting.

“Kara.”

As she stepped aside to let him in, Kara’s eyes fell to the rolled up newspaper poking out of one of his coat pockets, and her heart fell several stories in under 0.3 seconds and landed somewhere in her feet, urging her to make a run for it while she still could.

“It’s not what it looks like.” Her big mouth was open and doing all the running before she had even taken another breath or closed the stupid door. “I… I mean—” She turned around to find Clark pouring hot water into a second mug, adding tea bags, and setting both their mugs on the table between them. Always proper, always helpful, always so damn calm—it drove Kara mad.

“Mhm-mhm,” he said, his eyes flickering to the copy of the Planet already on the table. “Looks pretty straightforward to me.” He took a seat and had Kara do the same opposite him without her even thinking about it. “If the photos are any indication—because I’m having trouble believing what I am seeing, Kara—it is _exactly_ what it looks like.

Irritation needling her skin, Kara leaned back and crossed her arms. So what?! And even _if_ —whatever it _had_ been—or not been—was clearly over now. Also, Kara failed to see how this was any of Clark’s business. Last she recalled, she was the older one. Even if her baby cousin liked to pretend it was the other way around most of the time.

“Kara—”

“Don’t even start with me, _Clark_ ,” she said, venom in her voice that she hadn’t actually decided on putting there. “Not after the day I’ve had.”

Apparently, it wasn’t enough losing Lena over gossip and being punished for her indecisiveness, now her _super_ cousin had come around to rub her face in it too; his looming presence enough to remind her that he, and he alone, had made all the right choices and now had it all—the job, the powers, the fiancée—while Kara was left feeling forever stuck and floundering, still not grown into herself and no closer to figuring out who it actually was that she was supposed to be—or that she _wanted_ to be.

“She has a certain… _reputation_.” Clark trod carefully, his big hands curled around his mug like they were one with it and made from clay themselves. “They all do.”

From the controlled tonelessness of his voice, Kara instantly knew this wasn’t the first time he had had this conversation. It was like he had a script to adhere to. Likely, he’d been venting to Lois. He probably practiced this talk with her first. Or, at least, went over what he was going to say in his head on the flight here. Either way, she could tell he was making an effort to do this as calmly and rationally as he possibly could. However, that—and the implication behind his words—was enough to have Kara bristle, her ears growing hot.

“Lena isn’t like that.”

Clark opened his mouth, then closed it again, and Kara watched him chew on unspoken words and rub his forehead, before he met her eyes, his gaze resolute. “Kara. The Luthors are dangerous. That danger didn’t go away when Lex Luthor went to jail. I hardly remember his little sister, but—”

“You’ve met Lena?”

“Not… really. She was already away at boarding school by the time I crossed paths with her brother.”

“So you don’t know her.”

“I know the Luthors, Kara.”

Kara rolled her eyes at him.

“You—you can’t… _date_ a Luthor, Kara!”

She blew out a breath. “Oh, and who says we’re dating?”

Oh, Rao, she was so sick of this. Sick of his high-and-mighty, sick of people butting in where they weren’t wanted, sick, sick, _sick_ of people telling her what to do. Don’t use your powers, Kara. Be a good girl, Kara. Try and blend in, Kara. You _can_ date that guy from marketing, even if he bores you to death and you have absolutely nothing in common, but you _mustn't_ date Lena Luthor.

Clark tapped the paper with one finger.

“So, you believe that… that… _libel_ your _talented_ colleague cobbled together? Hmm?”

Cocking his head, he frowned at her, his eyes trying to pin hers to catch her lying. “Um, I— I don’t work that closely with the guys who run the column, so, uh—”

“But you still believe every word they write.”

He looked wary, fingers tapping his mug. “Isn’t it? True?”

Kara huffed. “Does. It. Matter?!”

“So, it is true.” He took off his glasses, wiping them with a cloth from his pocket, and then put both cloth and glasses into his breast pocket. “Kara… and don’t take this the wrong way, but… have you lost your mind?”

Well, what way was she supposed to take it then?

“I’m fine, thank you,” she said, her voice tight. “And it’s none of your business who I date or don’t date, /sojehb/.”

Clark blinked at her use of the Kryptonian term, a crinkle appearing between his eyes at the word for cousin. Then his eyes narrowed as he finally caught the jab at their true age difference. The Kryptonian term referred to a family member who was the same age or younger.

“Maybe,” he said, shaking his head. “But… but this is different.”

“Yeah, it is different,” Kara said, volume rising as she got to her feet and walked around the table to pour her stupid tea down the drain and leave the mug in the sink. “I— I care about Lena. And… and I’d be ever so lucky if… after this disaster—” She turned and glared at the Planet on the table, gesturing. “She would still have me. Even as… as a friend.”

Clark made a face. “You can’t be… _friends_ with a Luthor, Kara.”

She walked back to her stool, but remained standing, leaning on it instead to grab her copy of the Planet and dump it in the trash. “Maybe _you_ can’t.” Clark looked hurt at that, and Kara bit her lip, averting her gaze and quickly adding a “Lena is not like that. I trust her, okay?”

“No. No, it’s not okay,” he said. “It’s… foolish, and… reckless… and immature!”

“Oh, by the Gods, Clark! Lena isn’t Lex!” Kara had wanted to swallow her retort and just let it go, smile, and move on, but, every time he opened his mouth, she just got angrier. “She… she was adopted by the Luthors! She’s nothing like them! Stop trying to make her into some… some villain!”

That was the breaking point of his patience. “Oh, so if she isn’t a _real_ Luthor,” he snapped back. “What does that make _you_ , Kara? Not a real Danvers?”

Kara rocked back on her heels, the air leaving her as if she’d been punched in the gut.

“You—you take that back, _Kal-El_!”

“I don’t think I will, cuz,” he said, voice cold. “By your logic, it applies.” To say such a thing was a low blow, but to stand by it was an entirely different matter. “Because maybe it is time you remembered who _you_ are, Kara _Zor-El_. Supers and Luthors don’t mix!”

“I’m not a super.” Kara said, the words turning bitter on her tongue as she spoke them. “And I am _both_.”

“Then so is your… your _beloved_ Lena.”

Her parents and their parting words be damned, she would strangle him. She would strangle Kal-El right here in her kitchen and dump is body into the harbour.

“Just… _shut up_ , okay?!”

“Real mature.”

“Right back at ya.”

They glared at each other until Clark looked away first and cleared his throat. “Kara— The Luthors… they have Kryptonite.” He seemed to shudder at the thought, but Kara didn’t care right now. Yes, she had heard about Kryptonite, of course she had, and mostly from him, but… really? “You… you don’t know what that’s… _like_. You don’t know what it _feels_ like.”

If it felt anything like having your beating heart ripped from your chest, then yeah, she had a pretty good idea.

“Imagine,” he said slowly, as if each syllable was a boulder he had to roll up a steep hill—without his super strength, of course. “Imagine glass… glass exploding in your veins, and… and burning shards in your blood, in your eyes, everywhere in your brain.” His voice was thick with an emotion Kara couldn’t quite place—fear? Frustration? “Kryptonite… It’s… it’s falling through thin ice into freezing water and… you can’t breathe, can’t think about anything but the _pain,_ and—”

Kara held up a hand, her palm facing Clark.

He looked crestfallen. “I— I don’t want that for you, Kara. Like, ever.”

“Okay. Okay.” Kara wasn’t ready to let go of the steam in her chest just yet. Being mad, at least, gave her something else—gave her _less_ —to think about. “And what makes you so sure Lena even has Kryptonite?”

“She’s a Luthor.”

A small laugh escaped her lips. “Argh. I think I’ve seen this tree before.”

“Kara, I mean it.”

“As do I.” She let out a breath. “Besides, it’s not like… she carries it around in her purse, is it? I would know by now. And— _again_ , Lena is nothing like her family.”

“You don’t know her family.”

“And you don’t know Lena!” Kara said, tightening her ponytail. “She… she _wouldn’t_ , Clark.”

“That’s what I thought, too,” Clark said, his tone bitter. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“No, it’s you who doesn’t get it,” Kara spat. “And it doesn’t even matter if we’re dating or not. Lena isn’t that kind of… person. I just… just _know_.”

“I do understand, Kara. I understand more than you think. And I still think what you’re doing is _wrong_. So, please, listen to me and—”

“I’m done listening.” She was right. She knew she was. She was right and he wouldn’t listen. She could explain all freaking night and he still wouldn’t get it. Her face had become rigid, jaw clamped tight, teeth grinding. It was time for him to get out of here before she did or said something she would regret. “My life, my decision.”

Clark ran his hand through his hair three times in quick succession and fixed Kara in a stare that could have frozen the Pacific. He snarled more than he spoke. “What about… _El mayarah_ , Kara? —Or doesn’t that apply either?”

The words stung, fueling the fire that burned inside of her. “Wow. You have no right—”

His eyes narrowed. “Oh, I forgot, all things Krypton are subject to special permission.”

He didn’t have the memories—the fear, the chaos, the screaming. Krypton, the only home she had ever known, exploding and taking everyone she had ever loved up until that point into the abyss with it. No, Kal-El had absolutely no right. He had been just a baby. And while that was sad and everything, she remembered more of uncle Jor-El and aunt Lara than her cousin ever would. He got to be just Clark Kent while she had to be both, always both. And he had no right to ask her to choose between her Kryptonian self and her Earth self, or to pit one against the other. Not while she tore herself apart in silence.

"What did you say?" Kara asked and her hands found her hips on instinct, gripping tight to hold her still; to hold her together. “You don’t even know what that _means_ , Kal-El!”

He looked unimpressed. “Oh, please.” A sneer formed on his smooth face and he leaned forward, eyes boring straight into Kara’s. “You’re not… the keeper of Krypton, you know.”

“I know that.” Kara’s fingers twitched and she could feel a vein pulsing on her neck. “But I’m a whole lot closer than you are!”

“You wanna bet?”

The heartache was like a red hot coal placed in her chest; it glowed and burnt her at the same time, and—even as she blinked away furious tears—it did not cool like coal in water, but throbbed and tortured her with an onslaught of memories flashing fast before her eyes— until the pressure and heat behind them became almost intolerable.

“Don’t try me!”

He got to his feet, but stayed right where he was, keeping completely—and unnaturally—still.

Kara took a step towards him, her fists tightly clenched. Burning rage hissed through her body like inverted sunlight, screeching for release in the form of unwanted violence. Her wrath pulsed through her in waves, drowning out all boundaries of morality and loyalty. In her mind, she could see herself close the distance and let go of all she was holding back. She could practically feel her fist smashing into his nose, splattering red blood on the Tiffany blue walls—and it felt good.

“You don’t even remember it! You know nothing… _nothing_ about Krypton!”

His eyes widened for a second before narrowing in anger. “Sorry, kid, but I don't fight _children_. Especially—”

“Children!” Kara exclaimed, her anguish and anger getting the better of her. She stepped even closer, blinded by the salty fire burning in her eyes. Her voice lowered, almost to a whisper as it threatened to spill and spread. If it did, she would set her entire apartment ablaze. “You were just a baby when we left, Kal-El! Do you remember the ramp and the pods? The ground shaking under your feet? Do you remember your _parents_ , hmm? Because I do!”

He stood right before her now, but she kept on glaring, stopping just short of physical violence and doing far more damage with her words. He hadn't meant to wind her up so much, something whispered from the back of her mind, but he had also been so... _mean_ , and, right now, she wasn’t even sure she still wanted to know him.

“What about it, Kal-El?” Her voice was wobbly and he stayed still, but she could see her words had hit their mark.

White knuckles from clenching his fists too hard, and gritted teeth from the effort to remain silent, his unmoving form exuded an animosity that was like acid—burning, harsh, pungent. His face was red with suppressed rage, and, Kara knew that, if she even so much as touched a finger to his shoulder, he would mentally snap.

She did it anyway—a flat hand hitting his chest, shoving to no avail.

He blinked rapidly. “And—and what would your parents say about this, Kara?! Do you think they’d be proud?” As his fingers closed around her wrist, all his rage came out faster than magma—and just as destructive. It consumed all that he was, so... delicate under that carefully composed persona and Kansas wheat. “Do you think they’d just stand by and watch you get… _entangled_ in your own doom?”

_She was never going to find out, was she?_

Twisting out of his—surprisingly painful—grasp, Kara rubbed at her skin. “Just… go.” The words barely made it past her gritted teeth, hissing out in one shaky exhale. “Go!”

“If that’s how you want it—” He looked at her for a long second, chest heaving. “But you’re on your own, Kara. I won’t be around to—”

“Leave!” At that moment—blinded by a five-course serving of rage that tasted bitter, yet oddly satisfying—Kara didn’t care. She didn’t care whether she ever saw him again or not. She didn’t care that he was supposed to be family. Family didn’t do… _this_. “Get out!”

She had to close her eyes to stop the heat behind them from erupting and—the cool whoosh of air in stark contrast to her burning face—found Clark was gone when she opened them again, the door left ajar and swinging on its hinges.

“Clark?” She croaked, a hand flying to her throat.

As she stood, untethered in time and space, nausea swirled unrestrained in her empty stomach and her head swam with half-formed regrets. One hand grasping at a stool for support, Kara clutched at her heart. It felt as if her blood had become tar, as it struggled to keep a steady beat. All heat leaving her on the next exhale, a heavy melancholy mood settled over her like a thick blanket, stuffy and suffocating, and, suddenly, she couldn’t breathe.

She took a few steps backwards, bumping into the table like she had forgotten it was there, and something clattered to the floor, breaking, but Kara was too busy forcing air into her flailing lungs, her breathing coming rapid and shallow, to figure out what it was.

She felt her heart struggle in its cage, hammering inside her chest like it belonged to an entirely different species that was running for its skin, and her ribs heaved as if bound by ropes, as she strained to inflate her lungs. Her head was a merry-go-round of fears, spinning out of control, and she wanted to run, but could no longer locate her legs.

She was alone. Clark was gone, and Lena was gone, and her parents were gone, and—

The panic started out as thin cellophane, something her fingers could still easily pierce breathing-holes into. But she was breathing all wrong, drowning on empty air between gasps; and then it was freezing water, washing over her in waves and rising higher and higher until it had passed her mouth and nose. That was the moment she stopped breathing altogether.

“Kara!”

With blackness threatening to creep in from all sides, Kara was too dazed, too darn exhausted, to fight off the strong arms that wrapped around her. She simply let it happen. Everything was spinning and the ground was melting under her feet, so she just let herself fall forward into the embrace, bodies sinking to the ground, the arms around her trembling from the strain as she no longer supported her own weight on the way down.

She knew this heart—pumping hard, but steady—and slumped, collapsing in on herself as the tears started to fall.

Alex. It was Alex. Alex was here. She was safe.

She could hear Alex saying something, but the sound was distant and muffled and she didn’t catch a single word. Clinging to her sister for dear life, she just buried deeper into the embrace, feeling herself shake as the sobs tore through her and forced their way from her mouth.

“A—Alex.” She nearly gagged at the impossible struggle to form words and gave up, her body shaking uncontrollably.

“Shh, Kara.” She felt Alex's hands rest on her back, fingers splayed and rubbing with gentle pressure. “Shh. It’s okay, you’re okay. I got you.”

Kara just cried, flooded by memories and emotions—both old and new—as something in her chest cracked and tore wide open. And, faced with the blackness behind her closed eyes, she saw her parents’ faces again—clearer than she had in years—and felt the shock wave from the blast as her whole world vanished for her; felt it so deep in her bones, it gripped her core; and then there was only pain— pain enough to break her; pain enough to change her beyond recognition.

“She left me, she left me alone!” She sobbed, her voice breaking before it drowned. “She… sent me away. And—” Kara’s throat felt raw, the words sharp-edged as they came up with the taste of rust and bile, and she drew breath—helplessly, desperately—the sound wet and almost primal, before she curled in on herself again.

Kara cried like there was too much raw pain inside her to be contained. She cried like part of her needed to break loose and split from her like a second skin. Alex’s soothing words and calming caresses made no difference at all. For the moment, Kara was beyond all reason, beyond all natural methods of calming—afraid and alone again; only 12 years old and lost in space, confined to a flying coffin, its walls closing in on her.

 _Just take me with you_ , she thought dully as she felt the throb in her chest slowly fade into an emptiness that was so much more painful. _How could you do this?_

“What happened, Kara?” Alex’s voice piloted her pod into the safe harbour of Earth; of Midvale; of Eliza and Jeremiah and Alex herself—and Kara felt herself shudder as she broke an invisible barrier and came up for air. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“He… he’s got,” Kara hiccuped against Alex’s chest. “He’s got no right! No right to tell me—” Her tears overtook her again and she let the rest of the sentence sink beneath the waves as Alex gently rocked them.

“I thought—” Alex whispered into Kara’s hair. “That was Clark, wasn’t it? I heard shouting.”

Kara whimpered. She didn’t have the words. Not for a second time tonight. Not again.

Alex just hummed in response, the sound rumbling deep and reassuring, and her arms tightened around Kara, the whole embrace radiating understanding and so much love, it nearly sent Kara flying over the edge yet again.

“Okay, okay.” Alex planted a kiss on the crown of her head. “And I’m not even going to ask if it was about the Luthor girl.”

“Lena,” Kara croaked, and Alex chuckled.

They stayed like that for a little while longer. Kara’s hearing was the first to return to normal, then her eyesight followed suit. She was still shaking as she pushed back onto her knees. Alex was quietly squatting in front of her, her breath little puffs of warmth on her damp face.

“Alex?”

“Yeah?”

Kara just hugged her sister in a near bone-crushing hug, and Alex groaned.

“I love you too,” she gasped. “Kara, too much. Oof. Okay, oww. Alright.”

Kara gave a wobbly laugh as she let go, dashing at her cheeks and eyes with one trembling hand. Tears and snot all over her face, she finally gave up, lifted her shirt, and wiped everything in one broad swipe.

“Eww, Kara.” Alex burst out laughing. “Mom would love this.”

Kara attempted a grin, but it slipped from her face like wet soap, and she sighed, looking down at her hands in her lap. 

“I don’t care who her family is,” she breathed, punctuating the statement with a dignified sniffle. “She’s not like them. They don’t deserve her.” Hands wringing her ruined shirt, she looked up at Alex. “She… she’s… beautiful, and kind, and smart—she graduated from MIT. Alex, you would love the books she reads—and she likes the same movies I do. She makes me laugh, and I just—”

Alex just smiled at her, shaking her head a little.

“Make no mistake,” she said, bringing her legs forward and crossing them, so she could sit more comfortably. “I’m going to kick Clark’s butt on a round-trip to, I don’t know, Antarctica, or something, next time he shows his face, but—” She hesitated, eyes searching Kara’s face for any sign of fresh crumbling. “But… he’s probably just… worried? We all are.”

Kara shot her a look.

“Mom—Mom read the article, Kara,” Alex said, placing a hand on Kara’s knee and rubbing circles with her thumb. “She… she called me.”

Kara heaved a deep sigh, lifting her arms over her head, and something cracked and popped back into place as she stretched. She made a face. “It’s… it’s a _mess_ , isn’t it?” 

“You could say that,” Alex agreed. “What the hell happened?”

Kara shrugged. “Everything was fine last week. Then the Planet happens… and all hell breaks loose.”

“Have you talked to… you know,” Alex licked her lips. “Lena?”

Kara rubbed at her itching eyes. “No. She won’t take my calls.”

Alex squeezed her knee. “Hmm… maybe, maybe she needs a minute? That article was pretty harsh.”

The thought of Lena being so thoroughly… _affected_ by the stupid article that she was _unable_ to answer her phone, had Kara’s heart clench with after-pains and she turned her head to locate her phone on the table. Maybe—maybe she should try again? Or… try and go to talk to her in person?

“Hey,” Alex said, poking her middle to get her attention. “Now, don’t you go do anything rash, Kara Danvers. Give the poor girl a moment to breathe. Besides, I wouldn’t go storming anywhere… like a, well, a bat fresh out of hell—”

Kara scrunched up her face.

“I— I’m not in charge of idioms in the English language, Kara.” Alex rolled her eyes. “You… you can’t charge across the city—or the country—and knock down doors, is what I’m saying. We’d read about that next.”

Alex was right. Kara hated it. “I… I don’t want to make it worse for Lena,” she said in a small voice. “She probably already thinks it’s my fault.”

Alex answered with her signature ‘ _that’s bullshit, Kara, and you know it_ ’ look, but Kara wasn’t so easily convinced. Perhaps Lena did indeed blame her. Or perhaps Kara only blamed herself, because she hadn’t been honest about her assignment. Or both. Or neither. Or maybe Lena sat on her bathroom floor this very minute, sobbing her beautiful heart out, and there was nothing Kara could do about it.

Alex’s stomach grumbled, bringing her back to the floor of her own apartment and the soft carpet under her knees and fingertips.

“Sorry,” Alex said, rubbing her belly. “Really long day. There was a… lot to do. A bit… chaotic.”

Kara nodded, dimly wondering what could be so important working at a lab that one would have to forgo lunch and couldn’t even stop for a quick snack. Even if—well, say—the President needed her bloodwork done asap, there would surely be enough time left for a BLT sandwich?

“Any chance there’s leftovers of the Chinese I sent over earlier?”

Kara’s head turned to look at the takeout bags on her counter. _Oh_.

“Take your pick,” she said. “I could… heat it up, if you want?” Kara offered, hand rubbing at her eyes again.

“That’s… that’s okay,” Alex said, getting to her feet with a groan. “I’ll just pop something into the microwave real quick.” She strode over to the counter and peered into the bags, then whirled around to look at Kara, who had straightened up too, but stood a little wobbly on her tired legs. “You—you didn't even… touch anything?”

Kara yawned, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Wasn’t hungry,” she mumbled, padding back to the table and pulling a stool towards her to sit.

Alex shot her a look, one eyebrow quirked, and before Kara could elaborate or protest, Alex was leaning over the table, the back of one hand pressed to Kara’s forehead, then the palm, and then the back again, with Kara going a little cross-eyed as she followed the motion.

“Hmm,” Alex said. “Well, you’re eating something now,” she decided, turning her attention back to the takeout containers. “Fried noodles, egg rolls, duck?” Without waiting for an answer, she got out two large plates and dumped a little bit of everything onto each. “Why am I even asking,” she mumbled to herself as she fumbled with the dials on the microwave, and Kara didn’t have the heart to tell her that the last thing she wanted right now was food.

Leaning back against the counter, fingers drumming on the edge as she waited for the microwave, Alex’s gaze swept the room. “Oh. What happened here?”

Before Kara’s tired eyes had caught up, Alex had already gotten the dustpan and brush, and a floor-cloth, and taken care of the broken mug and spilled tea.

Kara sighed. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Kara bit her lip. “So.” She fiddled with the clasp of her notebook. “So, you don’t think I should call her again?”

“Well,” Alex paused to think, switched the plates, and started the microwave a second time. “I wouldn’t. Not straight away, anyway. But—you don’t have to wait, if you don’t want to, Kara. It’s just what I would do.” Kara nodded. “Let the dust settle a bit, sleep on it.” Alex shrugged. “I could ask Maggie what she thinks,” she offered. “If that would help? I already would have, but I don’t think there’s anything she can do about the idiots at the Daily Planet. Freedom of press and all that.”

Kara smiled at her sister. What would she do without her? Alex was the best thing that had happened to her after she’d crashed on Earth. Alex, her big sister, always ready to pick up a figurative gauntlet and fight her battles for her. Only, Kara felt, this was a problem she had to face herself. “No, thanks. I’ll figure it out.” She rolled her aching shoulders back. “Maybe I _should_ sleep on it.”

“Dinner first,” Alex said, placing a piping hot plate in front of her, then getting forks and knives—apparently, she didn’t trust Kara with chopsticks this late into the evening—and a glass of freshly poured ice tea for each of them. Returning the bottle to the fridge, she rummaged in the bags for napkins, then sat down opposite Kara, taking the same spot that Clark had vacated what now felt like ages ago.

“Mmm. Enjoy,” she said, clicking her fork to Kara’s. “Wow, I’m _starving_.”

Twisting a few noodles around her fork, Kara watched as Alex tucked in. “What,” she said slowly, twirling her fork in the opposite direction to unwind the noodles again. “What do I do if she doesn’t want to talk to me… ever again, Alex?”

Alex finished chewing her bite, then put her fork down. “That won’t happen,” she said, and Kara only wished she had her sister’s unwavering confidence. “And if, for some crazy, unforeseen reason, it does, you could always… text.” She took a sip of her ice tea. “Or better yet. Go old-school and write a letter.”

Kara liked the idea of composing a beautiful letter to Lena. She’d pick out pretty stationary and use her best pen, then carry it to the post office and ask for the nicest stamps they had. She was better at expressing her thoughts in writing anyway.

Something tight and painful uncurling in her chest, she leaned forward in her seat, resting one elbow on the table and her chin in her palm—which earned her a sharp look from Alex. “You still haven’t eaten anything.”

“Pff. Yes, _Mom_.” Rolling her eyes, Kara picked up a piece of duck with her fork and stuffed it in her mouth. “Happy?”

Alex hummed assent. “We both know Mom would come down on _me_ for not making sure you had a proper dinner, Kara.”

“Okay, okay.” Kara held up her hands, then gripped her fork tighter and tackled her noodles in earnest this time. “Is… Is Eliza okay with—?” She opted for stuffing her mouth with hot noodles instead, so it would be left to Alex to finish the question and connect the dots.

“You know how she is,” Alex said, eyes scanning Kara’s face in that way that had Kara look away and her cheeks flush. “Hard to tell over the phone.” Catching Kara’s expression, she hurried to add, “Hey, not what I’m saying at all.” She reached for Kara’s free hand and gave it a quick, reassuring pat. “She’s… fine with you liking girls,” Alex said. “With you liking girls… too?” Searching her face again and finding no objections there, Alex went on. “Would be a bit hypocritical of her not to.” Alex grinned. “She didn’t like the article though—of course she didn’t—and I am sure she called Martha as soon as she hung up with me. It’s not like Clarke wrote that piece of crap himself, but that doesn’t mean Mom doesn’t hold him personally responsible.” Alex’s grin turned wicked. “And… and as for you dating a member of the Luthor family, well—” She trailed off. “Probably my job to keep you from doing that, so, if she’s mad about it, she’ll be mad at me, not you. Don’t worry. You’re safe.”

She didn’t want to be safe. She wanted people to stop making such a fuss and reducing Lena to something that she had no control over. What did it matter what her last name was? It wasn’t like she’d chosen it. Just like Kara hadn’t chosen to lose her parents, become a refugee on Earth, and find a new home with the Danvers. And yet, all things considered, she had still fared much better than poor Lena. It wasn’t fair.

“You know,” Alex said around a mouthful of egg roll. “Mom’s birthday is coming up soon. Invite her? For the weekend? Then we can all get to know her.”

Kara had a hard time picturing Lena in her childhood home, but once the idea had floated in her ear, it had taken root in her brain and her heart, and she was, suddenly and irrevocably, obsessed with it; convinced she’d never wanted anything more and wouldn’t want anything else quite as much ever again. However, to make that happen, she needed to fix what she’d broken first. And to make that happen—

Kara reached for her phone and Alex clucked her tongue.

“I didn’t mean _right this minute_ , Kara.” She laughed. “At least finish your dinner first?” Still laughing, she shook her head. “And what happened to ‘ _sleeping on it_ ’, hmm?”

Kara bit her lip and set her phone back down. Yeah, Alex was probably right. She should wait. She should eat some more fried duck.


	10. The Heart

By next morning, all calm and confidence had left her and Kara did something she had never done before—she called in sick. She felt a little guilty about it. She knew—knew very well—how it must look, but she couldn’t bring herself to go. Just the thought of sitting at her desk, unable to concentrate and squirming uncomfortably while everyone enjoyed watching her struggle more than they enjoyed television—like her life had suddenly become their favorite soap opera—was enough to make her want to use up all her vacation days too—another thing she didn’t normally do.

So, instead of going to work, she stayed in her pyjamas and—after drowning a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch in entirely too much milk, only to ignore it until it had become a sweet and soggy, inedible mush—picked up her phone. Still no calls or texts from Lena. Two blue check marks told her that Lena had read her last message—the one about the Port, sent before everything went to crap—but she had no way of knowing when exactly that had happened, or what had happened next.

The phone had rung five times this morning, but every time it wasn’t Lena. Every time Kara’s heart beat fit to burst at the shrill ring, only for her eyes to sting and her stomach to drop when she heard the wrong voice. The first call had been Alex—making sure she’d gotten through the night okay and warning her that Eliza would call and do the same. Next had been calls from Nia and Cat that Kara had let go to voicemail—she couldn’t possibly talk to Cat like this. The same also held true for Eliza’s call and—Kara had panicked a bit when she had read the name flash on her screen—aunt Martha.

She’d shot Eliza a quick text, letting her know she was okay and would call back later, but she didn’t have the stomach to hear what Martha Kent had to say on the matter. By now, she probably knew all about the article, and Lena, and—most likely—Kara’s argument with Clark, too. She probably also had very strong opinions about the Luthors in general, and about Kara… _with_ a Luthor in particular—just like her son did—and Kara was nowhere near ready to go another round.

Pushing all thoughts of the previous night firmly to the back of her mind, she opened her messages and, with her mouth drier than a sandbox in summer, let her fingers hover over the keys. What would she say? What _could_ she say that would make Lena want to talk to her, but not feel pressured to do so if she _didn’t_ want to? Everything that came to mind felt wrong; silly.

She wanted to ask Lena if she was okay, but that—if her own emotional state was anything to go by—was a very stupid question. Of course, she wasn’t. She wanted to ask, if there was anything she could do to make it better; anything Lena needed, but that was also stupid, because actions spoke louder than words, and Lena’s actions—or rather lack thereof—told her loud and clear that what Lena wanted—or maybe needed? —was to be left alone. That also ruled out question number three (‘ _Can we talk?_ ’). It was clear Lena wasn’t interested in—or able to? —talk to her right now. That left Kara with only one more thing sitting trembling on the tip of her tongue, but she felt silly even thinking it, let alone typing it into her phone: _I miss you_.

It made no sense. If she used her head and not her heart, Kara was totally aware that not much time had passed at all since she had last seen Lena; since they’d been to the movies together on Friday. And, even if it had been more than just three days, it still wouldn’t have been long enough to explain the dull ache she felt in her chest whenever she thought Lena’s name or enough to justify the soft tug on her heartstrings. They had only known each other for a few weeks. She had lived far more of her life without Lena in it and been perfectly… _fine_ , for the most part, anyway. It made absolutely no sense that she couldn’t picture herself going back to that. It was too soon to think of anything as ‘before Lena’; way too soon to make Lena the starting point of her calendar or the center of her life. Kara knew that. But she also knew herself—and she’d never known herself like _this_.

 _Lena?_ , she typed, hitting send before she could stop herself. And—against her better judgement and with her teeth biting down on her lip hard enough to break the skin—followed up with all the things she just couldn’t _not_ say; all the things that would eat her alive if she tried to keep them from leaving her heart and riding her bloodstream all the way to her tingling fingertips.

With bated breath, she looked down at the block of chat bubbles that so neatly wrapped her words in green: ‘ _Are you okay?_ ’, followed by ‘ _What can I do?_ ’, and, finally, a small ‘ _I miss you._ ’ that had her stomach flutter with nerves. _There_. She’d planted both feet firmly in her mouth, shaken her silly heart right off her sleeve, and just—came out and said it. The rest was up to Rao. To Rao and Lena Luthor.

Five minutes passed; 15 minutes; half an hour; two. _It is only 10:30 a.m._ , Kara reasoned with herself. _Lena is probably busy_. However, no matter how hard she tried not to let it get to her, with every minute more that passed—while the double ticks stayed stubbornly, dishearteningly grey—Kara’s heart sank a little more.

By noon, her heart felt like smooshed ice-cream melting on hot tarmac and she decided to give it a rest and put the phone down, shuffling to the bathroom for a shower. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t let this break her, she had to keep it together, she was being ridiculous.

After a scalding hot shower, Kara—wearing nothing but a large bath towel—pressed her palm to the foggy glass of the bathroom mirror. Wiping it sloppily and staring at her blurry reflection, she was shocked to find that she looked okay, normal even. Inside, the ache for Lena gnawed at the very heart that still beat hopelessly for her and dared to perk up with every unexpected sound that hit her ears. Kara pulled her lips into a smile, and let out a strangled sob when she realized that anyone could easily mistake her fake smile for real happiness. It amazed her to think she could look so perfectly normal, when she was crumbling on the inside—a little more with each steady tick-tock of the clock on the living room wall.

After putting on comfortable clothes—soft sweatpants and her favorite sweater from NCU—Kara made herself a cup of hot cocoa with marshmallows and sprinkles, grabbed her phone, and then settled on the couch, hugging her knees and staring out the window. Usually, the sound of rain, tapping her windows ever so softly, calmed her, but looking out at the large grey clouds hanging low and heavy in the sky, had her feel even more miserable. The only thing that would have been even worse, she thought touching her head to her legs, would have been brilliant sunshine and cloudless skies. But Rao wasn’t a cruel God and he’d never mock her pain like that.

If this… if this was what… romantic love was, she wanted nothing to do with it. This was horrible. Thinking back, Kara’s sore heart went out to Alex, who—once upon a time—had been rejected by Maggie, initially, and suffered terribly for it, before they had figured it out. Was this what it was? Rejection? Was it supposed to sting this bad? And would it ever stop? Would they—Kara barely dared to think it—work it out; work it out, too?

Part of her wasn’t ready to give up hope just yet and reached for her phone in a bout of stubborn optimism. Pulling up her messages, Kara’s eyes watered at the sight of blue check marks all the way through and, eyes still glued to the screen, she nearly choked on her heart as the text ‘typing…’ appeared directly under Lena’s name and it all but sent her flying into headless panic.

Forcing herself not to blink, Kara watched the three dots; watched and watched and watched, until finally, a message came through and appeared on her screen with a little popping sound.

A heart. A perfect red heart.

Kara blinked at it. Something inside her slumped and soared at the same time, Lena’s name dancing on her skin and making it pebble. Lena. Lena, Lena. She couldn’t sit any longer, her feet hitting the floor and pushing off with restless energy, tingling as she paced laps through her apartment. Holding her phone with both hands so it wouldn’t clatter to the ground and break, she didn’t know whether she wanted to whoop with joy or cry from sheer relief, both flooding her in equal measures. She was up and she was down; smiling and crying; a brilliant rainbow of emotions arching in her chest.

Oh, bless Rao.

It wasn’t too late. She hadn’t lost Lena. And she would do everything in her power, so it stayed that way. If this was what _almost_ losing her—almost losing her after only a few _weeks_ —felt like, Kara couldn’t bear to think what the real thing would be like. She’d do whatever it took. She would be all she was—only better—and everything she wasn’t too—if that was what Lena needed her to be. She wouldn’t write the article. It was only a stupid article after all. And she’d never keep anything from Lena ever again. Even as she thought it, Kara knew she had already broken that promise, her biggest secret glowing red-hot under her skin. How could she ever be honest with Lena if she couldn’t even be herself—her true self, her _whole_ self—with her?

She looked at her phone again, the red heart burning itself into her retina. _A heart, a heart, a heart_ , her own heart sang, making her dance to inaudible music from within, twirling in the middle of her living room.

Then her head chimed in—off-tune and heavy—pulling her back from the clouds. She paused, frowning. The heart—what did it mean? Yes, Lena was okay? Yes, Lena… _missed_ her too? Yes... what? Did it even mean yes at all?

Blowing out a breath and sinking down on a stool, her fingers had already pulled up her Favorites list and were seconds away from dialing Alex, so she could both scream and scream for help, because her last surviving brain cells were absolutely useless. Just when she wanted to press Alex’s name, a new notification popped up, and, choking on thin air and coughing up half a lung, Kara squinted at the screen through narrowed, watery eyes.

 _I’m so, so sorry_ , the message read. _Talk later? Can I call you?_

Her heart thumping like mad, Kara swiped with unsteady fingers until she had found what she was looking for: the yellow heart. It was her favorite—warm and strong like the yellow sun of Earth. _Yes_ , she typed. _Definitely. Can’t wait! Anytime. You can always call me, Lena._ Watching as the words appeared in a bubble underneath the sun-heart, she let out a little squeal when the ticks immediately turned blue.

Kara spent the next few hours watching her phone like a hawk, volume all the way up, so she wouldn’t miss anything. She also spent it raiding her fridge and the kitchen cupboards—looking for anything and everything yummy—and had done such a good job grazing and snacking her way through, well, everything, that she would be forced to stock up tomorrow.

As she sat, curled up comfortably on the couch, blanket around her shoulders and empty Cheetos jumbo bag and a—now empty and cold—tray of pigs in a blanket on the coffee table, her phone finally rang, and she jumped into action. Hastily wiping her hands on the dish towel, she fumbled with her phone and picked up on the third ring, her heartbeat loud in her ears.

“Hi? Lena?”

“Hi, umm, hello,” Lena’s voice came a few octaves higher than usual and a little unsteady. Kara heard her draw breath. “Hello, Kara.”

“Lena. I’m so glad you called,” Kara said, feeling the truth of the words wash over her. “I— I was… worried. A-About you.”

A loud beat of silence.

“I— umm,” Lena sighed. “I’m so, so sorry for… _everything_ , Kara. I… I never meant— I’m terribly sorry. Please believe me. I should never… I should have known better. It’s—” She let out another heavy breath. Oh Rao, she sounded terrible—like she had a bad head cold, strain and exhaustion in every sound, every intake and exhale of breath—and Kara longed to wrap her in a long, long hug. “I should have known they’d never leave me be, no matter where I go,” she said, voice tremulous. “And that they’d go after you, too. God, Kara, I’m so sorry. I—” her voice cracked, chipping Kara’s heart.

“Lena! Lena, hey!” Kara pressed the phone to her ear. “Listen. It’s okay. I— It’s not _that_ bad.” She gave a soft laugh. “We actually look good in some of the pictures?”

Lena gave a wet chuckle. “You— you think so?”

“Uh-huh.” Kara grinned into the phone. “They’re still such… _assholes_ for printing that, though.”

Another stunned pause. Kara was pretty sure Lena had never heard her swear before.

“Yes,” she said, her voice growing a little steadier. “Yes, that they are.”

Kara bit her lip, suppressing a hiss as her teeth hit tender spots. She really had to stop doing that. “Are— are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” Her answer came too fast and too flat to be even a little bit true or believable, and Kara cleared her throat, indicating just that.

“And the honest answer would be—?” she coaxed, keeping her tone light and voice soft as cotton candy.

Lena made a sound—a cross between a laugh and a sigh. “You… really want to _know_?” She asked, her voice suddenly small and cautious and Kara felt her chest swell with indignation and anger at whatever or whoever had made Lena automatically assume a reply in the negative, so she would preemptively lie about how she was feeling. That wasn’t… right. That wasn’t healthy.

“Yes,” Kara said. “Lay it on me.”

“I— I don’t know?” Lena sounded a little taken aback herself. “It’s a… right proper mess, I guess. You’d think I’d be well-equipped to handle those by now, but— they always find new ways to blow holes in my fleet and… well, shareholders and board members don’t take too kindly to rough sea. They didn’t want me here in the first place. It’s—” She cut herself off suddenly. “Excuse me. I’m rambling.”

“Nah, makes perfect sense to me.” Had she known the verbal equivalent to band-aids, she would have showered Lena in those. “Go on.”

Lena hesitated. “I’m… only filling in for— for my brother.” Her humorless laugh was bitter and Kara wished she could have touched her shoulder, rubbed her arm, taken her hand in hers and squeezed lightly—anything to show Lena that _she_ cared and wanted her sweet, carefree laughter back; wanted to hear it all the time. “He’s the… _crown prince_. Luthor Corp was supposed to be his. I— I should have just—” She paused. “Never mind.” She exhaled. “It’s not like I’m not _qualified_ for the job, because I am. —” Kara could practically _hear_ Lena’s mouth clamp shut and her teeth gnawing her bottom lip. “Just, the people who matter, they… don’t see it that way. That makes things difficult. And when you’re already a pariah in the public eye nobody cares when the press drags you through the mire for everyone’s entertainment.” Kara cared. She cared a whole lot. “I should probably just be thankful throwing rotten produce is no longer at thing that people do.”

“Hey,” Kara said again, putting as much warmth in her voice as she possibly could. “It’s going to be alright, okay? Whatever you need—”

“That’s very sweet of you, Kara.” Lena sounded sincere right to the verge of tearfulness. “I’m… I’m afraid there isn’t much to be done about it. I just— I’ll have to stick it out. Hope it dies down eventually. These things usually do. After a while.”

“Can’t… can’t you fight it?” Kara wanted to dispel Lena’s worries, wrap her in a warm blanket, and share her cocoa with her, but she also wanted to punch… people in the face. Lena sounded so dejected, resigned to just take whatever the world threw at her and bear it, suffering in silence, and Kara couldn’t just _let_ her. If she knew what or who they were up against, she’d fight tooth and nail. She’d stand up for Lena, always. Even if Lena didn’t stand up for herself. Maybe she should rethink scrapping the article. “It’s okay, if… I mean, you don’t have to, _obviously_. But— Do you want company while you wait it out?” Kara heard her own breath rattle on the line. “I’ve got… pretty good reflexes. Could catch a rotten tomato or two, if it came to that.”

“I couldn’t possibly ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking,” Kara said, voice firm. “I’m offering. No, in fact, I’m _insisting_.” She took a deep breath. “Unless… unless, you won’t have me?”

“Never,” Lena said immediately, voice sparking on the word. “I’d… _always_ … but, Kara. Kara— are you sure?” There was a pregnant pause. “About, you know. It’s quite the scandal already and if we keep adding coals to the fire—” Kara could almost hear Lena’s heartbeat over the phone. “Once… once you have a certain… _reputation_ ,” she said, carefully choosing her words like moving chess pieces on the board. Lena had told her she loved chess. Kara was still trying to learn. She lacked the patience, Alex said. “Pictures won't stay in the tatty little gossip papers no one believes. They’ll be everywhere. And, if you don’t engage, don’t give them what they want—there’s nothing like a mad woman to drive sales after all—the tone only gets harsher, the comments more vicious. I— I wouldn’t… wish that on… anyone.”

“Let them do their worst.” Kara was absolutely certain she didn’t care. Let them come at her, at them—and they wouldn’t know what hit them. Actually, she thought, feeling heat creep into her cheeks, part of her liked the idea of—very publicly—adding accelerant to the flames.

“And—” The hesitation in Lena’s voice was almost painful. “You’re… not mad at me?”

Huh? Why would she be mad at Lena? “Mad at you? For what?”

“Dragging you into this,” Lena said. “And… I could have probably handled it more gracefully.” The line went quiet for a moment. “I— I was so sure you would… that you were—”

“I’m not mad at you, Lena.” Kara said simply. “Why would I be? None of this is your fault. And even if it were—but it isn’t, you hear me? —You can’t… you have no control over what goes to print—”

“That’s the worst part,” Lena said softly, and Kara’s stomach clenched with foreboding. “When you’re a Luthor, you’re fair game. Anyone can say or write whatever they want about you and there’s nothing you can do about it.” She sighed. “Well, I could throw money and lawyers at it—we do have those—but… that’s exactly what everyone _expects_ me to do, isn’t it? I can’t win.”

“Okay, I’m going to say something really cheesy now.” Kara grinned. “Ready?”

That snapped Lena out of her funk and she laughed. Her laugh still lacked some depth and there wasn’t much power behind it either, but they were getting there. Slow and steady. “I quite enjoy cheese. Do tell.”

“It might be kind of a wild idea… you probably haven’t considered the concept—” Okay, she was enjoying herself maybe a little too much, but making Lena laugh was the best feeling in the world and she was determined to do it again.

“Oh, really.” Lena played along easily. “Intriguing. What is it then?”

“Pretty straightforward, actually,” Kara said, her heart kicking it up a notch. “If we can’t put the fire out, we’ll just go through it and—”

“Walk in the park,” Lena deadpanned.

“I’d totally walk through fire with you, Lena! Gosh, I’d do it _for_ you.” Kara squeezed her eyes shut. Having lost her original train of thought—and the joke and punchline that went with it— she had instead landed on this embarrassing case of thinking out loud—or not-thinking. Just as loud. 

A sharp intake of breath. “What… what if I won’t let you?”

“You don’t get a say.”

“Oh, _I don’t_ , do I now?”

Kara laughed, but when she answered her tone had shifted to something else entirely and done so by its own accord. “No, you don’t. Better get used to it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

For some reason, that hit Kara square in the chest, making her gasp. “G-Good,” she spluttered, hiding her fluster behind a laugh. “Now that’s settled—what do we do next?”

“Tell them to stick it?” Lena giggled. “No. Actually, to be quite honest… Kara, could we, you know, lay low for a while?” Her tone was dripping with contriteness, oozing a horrible mix of guilt, regret, and shame that made Kara’s stomach turn and her chest inflate with angry heat again.

“Of course. Whatever you need—I mean... whatever works. Don’t worry about it.” She sucked in her bottom lip, letting it go with a little pop. “But—we can still see each other, right? We’d just have to be… sneaky, err, smart—We’d just have to be _smart_ about it, yeah?”

“I like sneaky,” Lena teased. “And yes, I would very much like to see you, Kara.”

Welp, if Lena kept that up—what with her voice a whole fruit basket with a pretty bow tied around the handle—Kara would overheat and her brain would get boiled to a pulp.

“Uh… how about… game night? Movie night? — P-Pizza night?” Kara’s brain was too sluggish, her mouth too fuzzy. She couldn’t help it. “Wait—that’s… every night. Pizza and potstickers, I mean. I like potstickers—”

Lena laughed. “And I like the sound of that.” 


	11. The Question

They made plans for the evening and, after the call ended, Kara immediately launched into action: taking out the trash, vacuuming and mopping the floor, dusting every surface, and washing dishes. For some inexplicable reason, she even cleaned the windows, changed the sheets on her bed, and did two loads of laundry, before stepping out and hurrying to the corner store to stock up on snacks. In addition to all the sugary and salty goodness that she carried home in two bulging bags, she also bought some fruit and veg ( _what if Lena fancied a smoothie?_ ), and a blender the same color as her kitchen walls.

Happy with her haul, she put everything away, set up the blender on the counter, and then went to rearrange knick-knacks on her shelves and fluff up the throw pillows on the couch.

When she was satisfied, she stopped and stood in the middle of the room, hands on hips and admiring her day’s work. Laughing at herself, she thought about what Alex would say if she walked in right now. Her sister would love this. She always teased Kara about the perpetual clutter. Though Kara was sure, Alex would find as much joy in teasing her about the absence of said clutter too—and about how and why it had come about.

After a quick shower and a roughly 30-minutes-long panic attack in her bedroom with nothing to wear, Kara came back out into the living room in dark jeans and a pink sweater—it was a movie night, not prom, right? —and, pulling her hair into a ponytail, she looked around for her phone, finally locating it between the couch cushions.

She called Marco’s at seven-thirty sharp, ordering her usual times two and—yes, that’s right—one large salad, just in case. There was nothing better than hot potstickers and pizza from Marco’s. The base was the perfect combination of fluffy on the inside and crunchy on the bottom, the crusts were extra-cheesy, and the toppings were always fresh. It was the only place Kara could think of to order from—she hardly ever ordered anything else—and her heart did a little nervous hop-skip, hoping Lena would like it just as much as she did.

Tearing through her extensive DVD collection next, she selected some of her favorites from every genre, fanning the cases out on the coffee table for Lena’s inspection and approval. She’d seen every single one at least three times and would happily watch whatever Lena decided on. 

The alarm on her phone went off at five to eight, giving her a small heart-attack, and she quickly dashed into the bathroom to put in her golden heart stud earrings. Thank Rao, her mother had finally allowed her to get her ears pierced for her eleventh birthday. There was no way she could have ever done that on Earth. Turning her head from side to side, she watched the little hearts catch the light, and anticipation fizzed and bubbled up inside her like soda.

Absolutely nothing happened for the next twenty minutes or so. Kara sat at the kitchen table, then got up to clean a water stain off one of the glasses she’d put out, checked the forks and knives next just to have something to do, grabbed a bunch of straws from the drawer and put them in a tall glass like a neon-colored bouquet of flowers; and then shuffled over to the window to stare out at nothing for a bit, before she finally sank down on the armrest of the couch, her hands in her lap fidgeting with a whole lot of nothing. She blew out a breath. Patience was a virtue, but hers had limits that were easily reached.

Feeling like a soda can left out in the sun for too long, Kara sat and waited, nearly crying with relief when, finally, there was movement outside her door and her ears caught the quick rhythm of a heartbeat that was fast becoming as familiar as her favorite song.

Kara jumped up, crossed the room, and opened the door before Lena even had the chance to knock.

“Hi!” Kara beamed, swallowing against the eyeful of Lena in a white blouse and pencil skirt—or was it a dress? —a black belt wrapped around her waist and a heavy golden knot resting in the hollow between her collarbones; Lena smiling at her with lips that were tinted a bold shade of red.

“Hello, Kara.” Lena’s voice was soft and shy; and Kara watched as her bottom lip disappeared for a couple beats, before she spoke again. “Sorry, I’m late,” Lena said, holding out the little gift bag that she had been carrying, nearly dropping the coat that was draped over her arm as she did so. Kara caught it before it fell. “I wasn’t sure what to bring—”

“Pfft. You’re right on time,” Kara said, stepping aside to let Lena in and clutching her soft coat to her middle. “Pizza isn’t even here yet! Come on in!”

Lena raised a perfect eyebrow at her. “In any case, I apologize, Kara.” Her voice dropped with the strangely alluring formality and Kara’s eyes fell on the little freckle on her neck, watching it move as Lena turned her head. “Tardiness doesn’t look good on anyone and I am sorry for making you wait. I—” She sighed. “Something… _unexpected_ came up at Luthor Corp, but I got here as fast as I could.” She gave a little shrug, one shoulder rising and falling. “Hence me being ridiculously… overdressed for the evening.”

“I… I like it,” Kara said, pushing up her glasses, then she ducked her head and moved to put Lena’s coat on a peg where it wrestled with her own coats and jackets for non-existent space. She should have taken care of the coat rack too.

“Why thank you,” Lena said graciously, taking a few more steps into the apartment. “Your home is beautiful, Kara!” Hand resting on a stool, she stood by the table and Kara watched her take in the warm laminate, soft carpets, TV nook, and the colorful mismatched pillows on the white couch and chairs. When she turned back to Kara, the setting sun poured in through the tall windows, framing Lena golden-red and making Kara gasp softly. As the light gently wove its way through the thin fabric of Lena’s blouse, Kara felt herself blush and quickly averted her gaze, dropping it to the safety of the floor. 

“Should I—” Lena bent down, features pulled into a question and indicating her heels—gosh, they looked uncomfortable—and Kara nodded. She didn’t much care about shoes worn indoors, but she cared about putting an end to Lena’s suffering immediately.

“You can—” She moved a few of her own shoes aside to make room on the shoe rack, then held out a hand for Lena’s heels and gently set them down on it. “Leave them right here.” Grinning, Kara gave them a pat and reached into the wicker basket next to the rack, coming away with a pair of fuzzy socks. She really liked these—soft pink with black-and-white cuffs and large stormtroopers that looked kind of cute.

Lena giggled, a playful warmth appearing in her cheeks as she took the socks from Kara and examined the print. “Where,” Lena said, holding back another giggle as she pulled them on. “Where would one even go about buying funny little things like these? They are brilliant!” She looked down at her feet, wiggling her toes with another pleased laugh. “Thank you.”

“I don’t remember.” Kara was still grinning. “But they sure are comfy.”

Suddenly remembering the manners that Eliza had so painstakingly tried to instill in both her and Alex, however, Kara’s neck prickled, and she hurried towards the fridge. “What would you like to drink? We got sparkling water, root beer, soda, apple cider, some bubbly—?” Kara’s voice went up as she realized she’d forgotten to buy wine. Lena liked wine. She chewed her lip.

“I’d love a root beer, please.” Lena said, settling on a stool and crossing her legs. “Haven’t had one of those in ages.”

“One root beer. Coming right up!” Kara said, poking her head into the fridge for a root beer and a soda, the cool air heaven on her burning face.

With her head still in the fridge and her ears not paying attention, the loud buzz from the doorbell came as a surprise, making Kara jump and bump her head on a shelf.

“Oh. Oh no.” Lena seemed to be biting back a laugh, but when Kara turned towards her, her face looked concerned. “Are you okay, Kara?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Kara rubbed the back of her head—she hadn’t felt that, of course not, probably dented the shelf rather than her head, but she felt embarrassed nonetheless. “And that’s pizza.” The bell rang a second time and, setting the drinks on the table, Kara quickly went to answer the door and take delivery of their dinner.

“Mmm,” Lena watched as she set down the cartons and containers. She plucked a pink straw from the glass, her fingers playing with it as her eyes followed Kara’s every move. It was nothing. But it was also enough to have Kara almost forget how to operate the pizza cutter. “Anything I can do to help?”

“You— you could pick out the movie?” Kara suggested, nodding towards the coffee table. “Then we can move the party over there.”

Lena pointed at her chest, her eyebrows shooting up. “Kara. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

No, she probably did not. But she couldn’t wait to find out.

While she cut pizza and emptied the salad into a nice yellow bowl, Lena was leaning over her pre-selection with the most charming frown on her face. “Wow, how am I supposed to—” Picking up cases to study covers and read blurbs, Lena slowly made her way through, until she returned to the table with a single DVD in her hand.

“How about this one?” She held it up and Kara laughed. Out of all her options, Lena had chosen _The Fifth Element_. “Looks interesting?”

“It sure is… something.” Kara grinned. “Player’s under the TV. Just pop it in?” She followed Lena back to the TV nook and returned the stack of rejected movies to the bookcase that housed her collection, then got the pizza, potstickers, and salad, and set everything on the coffee table while Lena went to get their drinks.

They settled onto the couch, Lena immediately tucking her legs under her and resting her head on Kara’s shoulder as they watched the Mondoshawan—the guardians—arrive on Earth and a young Luke Perry frantically trying to sketch them.

‘ _Priest, you and those before you have served us well. But war is coming. Stones not safe on Earth anymore._ ’

Kara’s eyes were on Lena as the stones were retrieved. She was paying attention, but, watching her closely, Kara didn’t miss the hand discreetly rubbing just under one eye, the stifled yawn, or the feeling of Lena’s weight growing heavier against her.

“Long day?”

“Mhm-mhm,” Lena murmured, but didn't take her eyes off the screen.

‘ _My Lord. If you take the weapon, we’ll be defenseless when the evil returns._ ’ - ‘ _In 300 years, when evil returns so shall we._ ’

Lena jumped when the gun went off, the bullets ricocheting off the massive creatures.

“Why… Why is he shooting at them? They… aren’t _dangerous_?” There was indignation swinging on Lena’s question, her tone part incredulous and part offended, and it sank into Kara’s skin and reverberated in her chest.

“He’s… scared, I think.”

“But,” Lena lifted her head to look at Kara, and, Rao, she looked exhausted; but, even in this state, she was beautiful. “There’s nothing to be scared of?”

Kara shrugged. “People are scared of what they don’t know, Lena.”

“They shouldn’t be.”

‘ _Time not important. Only life important._ ’

As the Mondoshawans’ ship took off and Lena snuggled up against her again, Kara felt the sudden sting of tears burn behind her eyes and bit her lip. Lena sure was… something too. Something else.

“I’m glad you think so,” Kara whispered, not even sure if Lena had heard her or not, her arm tightening around Lena and head tilting to touch Lena’s.

They stayed like that for a bit, until Kara’s stomach forced her to move and reach for some potstickers. Lena sat up and opted for pizza.

“Oh, no!” Lena wasn’t happy with the returning Mondoshawan being attacked, grumbling something around the slice of pizza she was holding to her mouth—holding in a hand that slowly sank to the napkin in her lap as she watched in awe as Leeloo was, well, for lack of a better word, born; reconstructed from a few cells inside an ancient gauntlet. “Wow.”

“Yeah. That’s pretty cool, huh?” Kara said as Leeloo broke confinement and attacked General Sleazebag.

“Good on her.” Lena took another bite of her pizza, looking pleased. “What _is_ the poor thing wearing, though? — Ooh, that’s high.”

They watched as Leeloo let herself fall off the building and crashed into Korben’s taxi, and Lena giggled all the way through the car chase through future New York City. “This is fun.” She grinned at Kara. “I picked a good one.”

Kara opened her mouth to respond, but didn’t, and, instead, found herself blushing furiously as she crammed another potsticker into her mouth.

They watched the rest of the movie in—mostly—comfortable silence, occasionally commenting, laughing at Bruce Willis’ antics and Chris Tucker, admiring Leeloo and Diva Plavalaguna’s performance, both of them intermittently reaching out for a slice of pizza or a potsticker. Nobody touched the salad.

“I’m glad he protects her,” Lena said with a sigh as she leaned back and scooted closer to Kara. “Even when she doesn’t need him to.”

“They protect each other.” Kara’s arm was back around Lena’s shoulders before she knew what she was doing. And, before she realized what was happening, Lena let herself sink lower and lower— until her head rested right in Kara’s lap.

“Uh-huh.” Lena reached out one finger to poke a suede elbow patch on Kara’s sweater. “You know…” she said, her voice low. Her hand had lowered with it, coming to rest on Kara’s thigh, and Kara could feel the warmth—could feel Lena—right through the fabric of her jeans. Lena drew lazy circles with her thumb. “I— I missed you too, Kara.”

Kara’s skin tingled where she touched her and her heart beat erratically in her chest; beat so hard that she was sure it would just… up, up and fly right out. There were butterflies—no, lions—roaring in her chest, but she liked how it felt. It felt good.

She would do everything to make this work. She would protect Lena. Always.

“I’m sorry they hurt you, Lena.” Lena’s shiny hair was incredibly soft to the touch, flowing through Kara’s fingers like air; like liquid light glowing behind her eyelids when she was flying.

“I should be used to it by now,” Lena whispered. “Back in Metropolis you could hardly set a foot out the door without— but, uhh, I don’t know... I guess, I’m just so tired of it. Tired of people...” She trailed off, her hand squeezing Kara’s thigh as the final scene of the movie played on screen—Korben admitting his feelings for Leeloo, hero and heroine sharing a tearful kiss and saving the world together—and Kara finally admitted to herself what she knew all along, but had been too afraid to admit: She _liked_ Lena. A lot. And she wanted to be with her. _Be with her_ , be with her.

Kara gazed down at Lena’s profile, combing through her hair with her fingers, following a slow rhythm and watching her frame rise and fall with it. She worked her way down, gently pulling some hair out from under her so it streamed across her lap, and Lena shuddered as her fingertips brushed the sensitive skin on her neck.

“Lena?”

“Mhm-mhm?”

“What—What would you say if…? What if I told you—?” Kara had wanted to come clean, come clean and confess everything in that very moment, but, as Lena turned on her back and blinked up at her with those eyes—deep and warm and trusting—she couldn’t find her voice. Kara felt her cheeks flush hot and her stomach drop with something heavy. Her heart pounded in her throat, blocking all words from getting out and air from getting in. Lena’s eyes dropped to her lips like she was… waiting for something—waiting for Kara to speak, perhaps—but Kara stayed silent, her eyes locked on Lena’s face. Beautiful, beautiful Lena. How many songs had she heard that talked about someone who took your breath away? Now, suddenly, that line made a lot of sense.

Kara wanted to nuzzle her neck; bury her face right where Lena’s pulse beat loud—oh, so loud—so close to the surface. She wanted to feather kisses to Lena’s skin, press her lips to that little freckle, and leave a mark of her own; wanted to feel, and taste, and smell; soaking up Lena’s warmth and getting lost in that scent that was part Lena and part luxurious florals—fragrances so soft and flowery, rising off warm, clean skin; swirling all around her, teasing, calling out, and beckoning Kara closer.

“Lena…”

Her body hummed as she bent down lower, achingly aware of her own heat mingling with the heat radiating off Lena in her lap. Lena’s breathing was ragged, coming in warm puffs of air against her neck, her cheek, her lips; and, Kara realized with a jolt of electricity shooting through her, that the pulse she felt in her fingertips wasn’t her own, but Lena’s; Lena’s racing heart throbbing against the heel of her palm.

Kara drew a long, shaky breath. Her gaze flitted over Lena’s chest, her neck, her lips; finally touching down and landing on her eyes; and, like a rope to a drowning person, Kara’s eyes locked on Lena’s. She’d always imagined, imagined her eyes to be closed when it counted—when it was _real_ —but, as long as Lena kept looking at her like that—with eyes wide and brimming with emotion—Kara would never close her eyes again.

Her grip on Lena’s neck tightened, her lips parted, and—

“Wait— wait.”

Kara froze, her heart shooting right through and crashing into her stomach as Lena’s palm connected with her chest.

“We're moving too fast,” Lena rasped, barely getting the words out, her lips inches from Kara’s. “It’s—it’s too fast.”

“Okay,” Kara breathed, everything inside her arching and reaching out, desperate to close the distance and connect.

Lena blew out a breath. Hot and sweet. “Too fast.”

“Too fast,” Kara echoed, blinking against the desires roaring in her chest and the tears forming in her eyes. “Yeah. _Yeah_.” 

Lena reached up and cupped her cheek, forcing Kara to meet her gaze— when all Kara wanted to do was to look the other way and pull her comfy quilt over her head.

“I— I _need_ you to be sure, Kara,” Lena’s voice had turned pleading and it broke Kara’s heart a little bit more with every new word. “I need you to want this. I—”

“I do.”

“Oh… kay.” Lena’s fingers trailed across her cheek as she let her hand fall and Kara was sure her heart was going to just stop working any minute now. 

“And I want you to want it too?” She whispered, eye’s searching Lena’s like voyagers navigating by the stars.

“I do,” Lena told her. “Believe me, I do.”

She hadn’t even fully processed the words yet, but the recognition and the permission Lena had just offered her—it felt like a gift. A delicate, precious gift. For the first time since she had realized that Lena—maybe—liked her, too, she felt something unclench. She felt herself breathe. 

She smiled down at Lena. “Good.” 

“And I want _you_ to want it more than I’ve ever wanted—” Lena’s voice cracked with emotion. She stopped, cleared her throat, and continued. “But that’s what _I_ want and I could see why… why it might not be what you want. So I just wanted to tell you that I understand if you… It’s okay if you don’t… if you want to stop and—”

Kara wanted to press her lips to Lena’s just to make _her_ stop, but she didn’t. Lena was right—even when she was being absolutely… _stupid_ right now—it was too soon.

“Shh.” Still smiling, Kara leaned in and turned her head to press a gentle kiss to Lena’s cheek. “We’ve just… established this. I like you, Lena Luthor.”

After the clutch of humiliation and fear had eased off her heart—and even with… things not having gone quite as expected—Kara felt very light and comfortably warm. She slumped back into the loose-pillow back of the couch, simply resuming her stroking of Lena’s hair, occasionally catching her cheek or her neck, but not shrinking away from the touch—and neither did Lena.

It was quiet now. So quiet that she could almost hear Lena’s thought bubbles rise and pop softly with every blink of her eyes. So quiet that she almost didn’t hear Lena tell her, “I like you, too,” over all the quiet and peaceful humming low in her ears.

“Mhm,” Kara murmured. “And I like _that_.” She paused, her fingers stilling midway up Lena’s neck. “Hey, Lena?”

Lena blinked up at her, face open.

“Would you—like to come to Midvale with me?” She watched as Lena’s brows knitted into a soft frown. “You know, _home_ ,” Kara added as a way of explanation. “My family always meets up there for Memorial Day weekend. I… I’d love for you to be there?”

“You—you would like…” Lena swallowed and Kara felt her pulse quicken against her palm. “For me to… meet your _family_?” Her voice went up, nearly cracking on the last word, but she changed course on the second syllable and held steady.

“Yeah,” Kara said, her thumb gently stroking Lena’s skin. “My adoptive mom, Eliza, my sister Alex, and her girlfriend, Maggie.” She grinned. “They’re all _dying_ to meet you.”

“They… _are_?” Lena squeaked, and, at the cute look of utter bewilderment and awe blooming on her face, Kara nearly forgot herself and kissed her for real. “I… I guess, I can’t turn the invitation down then?”

Oh, Rao. Flustered Lena was beyond adorable.

“Nope.” Kara grinned. “You can’t.” 

“Well.” Lena bit her lip—hard—and Kara’s heart jumped, somersaulting on the spot. She’d bring Lena home. She’d take her to Midvale. To meet Eliza and Alex. Her heart fluttered with nerves at the thought, but, at the same time, she couldn’t wait. Too bad Memorial Day was still weeks away. If it had been up to her, she’d thrown a few things and two toothbrushes into a backpack and flown them over there right now. “I better clear my schedule for Memorial Day then, don’t I?”

Kara laughed. “Memorial Day _weekend_ ,” she corrected, and Lena licked her lips, her face slowly lighting up with a bashful smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say, I like 90s movies. :D
> 
> EDIT: It's been brought to my attention, that not everyone knows these movies I talk about (Do yourself a favor and watch the Fifth Element, please. It's hilarious). :D So, for those confused and wanting to get an idea of the scenes Kara & Lena are watching: [The Mondoshawan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hXfoUGhKx0c) , [ Leeloo escapes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=npfVp_VrpAE) & [meets Korben](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nCaomvjPIok). Hope this helps.


	12. The Birthday

Being sneaky wasn’t as much fun as Kara had originally anticipated and, it turned out, they didn’t get to do it quite as often as she thought they would either.

As April turned into May, both she and Lena found they were swamped at work. Lena was vague about what kept her working late at Luthor Corp, claiming she didn’t want to spend the little time she had with Kara thinking or talking about work, so Kara wasn’t entirely sure what kept her so busy, but, as for herself, a series of alien attacks on Metropolis and Superman, subsequently, saving the day and the planet—almost on a daily basis now—had them all pretty busy over at CatCo.

Kara didn’t like it. She hadn’t spoken to Clark since their confrontation in her living room and, to have her friends and colleagues all fawn and gush over him, made her stomach turn and her pumpkin spice latte taste bitter on her tongue. Nia, of course, didn’t know her reasons for it, but caught enough of her mood to dial down her super-enthusiasm around her, and Kara was forever grateful for it. Even Cat Grant wasn’t immune to super-fever, so, to have just one other person at CatCo, who was not falling over themselves every time Superman was mentioned; not rushing to turn up the volume to catch whatever was going on in Metropolis that day on one of the many TV monitors in the office, was a blessing.

The only good thing that came of Cat’s rekindled obsession with her cousin was that she was far too distracted to keep tabs on Kara’s article and, feeling a little guilty, Kara even managed to milk her cousin’s latest save to get an extension on it—which pretty much was unheard of in CatCo history. The downside to it—the bullet she was grinding her back teeth on so hard that she was dangerously close to a visit to the dentist (those were always a disaster)—however, was that she was sent to Metropolis to cover the next Superman story, instead.

The trip was hell, the interviews were boring, and Kara felt so anxious the whole time—carefully avoiding any and all places Clark might be at; at all times he might possibly pop up there; while also avoiding Lois too—that, when her plane finally landed back in National City, not only did she come down with a tension headache of magnitudes previously unknown to any child of Rao, but she also hadn’t seen Lena in a whole week— and that wasn’t helping to improve her mood one bit.

Despite having actually been in Metropolis for Clark’s Earth Birthday, she didn’t bring round cake, didn’t even send a birthday card—like she normally would have done. She knew Clark and Lois would most likely fly back to Smallville to celebrate there anyway—if the Man of Steel wasn’t too busy being, well, steely—and, any other time, she would have gladly jumped at the opportunity to hitch a ride—any excuse to fly, even when it wasn’t she who did the flying, right? —and come with, but not this year. She wouldn’t go. She refused to. Not after what Clark had said to her.

Eliza wasn’t pleased and neither was aunt Martha, but Kara just couldn’t stomach sitting around the large table in the garden, eating apple crumble cake and drinking hot cocoa, like nothing was wrong. Clark would just have to deal with it. And, if Alex and Maggie could both get out of going for work reasons, then so could she.

Which was why, when she saw Clark in person next, it was already late May, and Eliza’s birthday, and the atmosphere at the Danvers house was more than a little frosty.

It was raining and unusually chilly for late May, so they were sitting inside, gathered around cake, and coffee, and, yes, hot cocoa on the kitchen table. Since it was a regular Thursday afternoon, there were only four of them: Eliza, Alex, Kara, and Clark. Lois was following a lead for a story, Maggie had to work late and would drive up tomorrow, and Lena had sent over a stunning flower delivery with her best birthday wishes, but couldn’t make it until tomorrow either.

They had made it through everyone’s second slice of cake in strained peace, before things slowly started to go South. Clark was droning on about the latest capture he had made—a sort of gang of Hellgrammites, wreaking havoc on Metropolis, terrorizing the human population and stealing dangerous chemicals—and was casually bringing up both Krypton and the Luthors in that aloof manner of his, in his stupid story, and Kara wasn’t here for it.

Clark claimed that the Hellgrammites had originally been arrested by Krypton’s military guild, brought before Kara’s mother, Judicator Alura Zor-El, and sentenced to Fort Rozz for life, but, due to something shady—allegedly involving the Luthors—happening, Fort Rozz had crashed on Earth; or been discovered there and _opened_ by the Luthors or some of their henchmen—Kara wasn’t paying attention to the crazy details anymore—and the Hellgrammites had escaped along many of their fellow convicts; most, if not all of them, now running rampant and keeping Clark so very, heroically, busy.

Kara made a face into her cocoa, Alex kicked her under the table, and Eliza got up to answer the phone—landline, in the hallway, like it was 1989.

“And… how exactly is the Luthor family involved in all this?” Alex asked, a healthy dash of scepticism in her voice that Kara loved her for. “If I understand correctly, Luthor Corp harvested parts of the crashed… space prison, but they didn’t actually arrive on the scene to do so until the convicts had already escaped?”

Clark scoffed. “That’s what they claim happened, yes, but—Lillian Luthor? She’s every bit as ruthless and cunning as her son.” He shot a pointed glare in Kara’s direction, who returned it with interest. “No one should trust a single thing that woman says. The Luthors didn’t get filthy rich by playing by the rules.”

“You would be wise to keep your distance from the youngest Luthor, Kara.” Despite Alex’s best efforts to buffer, he turned his full attention to Kara, who held onto her mug so hard, she heard the china crack and felt her palms grow damp and sticky. “She’s set to take over Luthor Corp officially soon, which means, whatever is going on, she is definitely involved.”

Gods, could he get any more condescending? Clark always went on about how the Luthors—and people like them—were so narrow-minded, bigoted and racist, but really, the only one with a mindset with the range of a teaspoon was Clark himself. He was so stuck on hating the Luthor family, he couldn’t even see past his own prejudices anymore.

“Her name is _Lena_ ,” Kara said, keeping her tone as smooth as her face. “And she’s got nothing to do with it.”

“Rao, you still can’t see it.” Clark took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, and Kara flashed back to that night at her apartment, when he had tried to use their family ties against her. Against her and Lena. “Perhaps the guys need to dig a little deeper for you to finally open your eyes and come to your senses?” The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t lift it into a smile. Not even half of one.

“Don’t you _dare_ , Clark.”

He could only be talking about his fellow reporters at the Planet. Those in charge of the gossip column, who had hurt Lena for no other reason than to ruin her reputation. Kara wasn’t stupid, she knew that these things happened to celebrities and big names all over the world every day—one rumor, one lie, one misstep enough to make entire empires and industries fall—but, this wasn’t some golf-playing, girl-raping, money-laundering multimillionaire or corrupt politician, this was Lena that Clark was talking about. Her Lena.

And, recalling the paparazzi pictures of her walking along the streets with Lena and how much damage the innocent pictures had already done, Kara’s stomach turned with the thought of how much _more_ damage and pain Clark would inflict, if he—as Superman—openly denounced Lena of having a hand in the alien attacks in Metropolis. 

“Who do you think you are, anyway, acting as judge and jury?”

“Kara—” Alex’s hand was on her arm, but she shook it off.

“You have no right, Clark.”

“You haven’t seen it. I have _every_ right, Kara.” There was no heat in his voice, as if his self-assured heart beat so steadily, knowing that only he, and he alone, was right— and it infuriated Kara to no end. He’d said it with such simplicity. Like this was his way of doing things and, thus, the only way forward. And, before Kara knew it or Alex could do anything to stop it from happening, it was happening all over again—Kara flying off the handles while Clark remained coolly detached, talking to her in that patronizing tone that made her blood boil.

“Look, Kara—”

At first, Kara balked, thinking of Eliza, and chocolate cake, and ruined birthdays, but then her mind went back to Clark’s thinly veiled threat. If he went and moved against Lena, there would be reporters and paparazzi everywhere, and her picture would be out on the newswires before their weekend was even over. With Superman’s blessing, they would stop at nothing to paint Lena as dangerous, dent her facade, and expose her, allegedly, deranged and evil nature—creating a monster in the public’s eye; a monster they could blame and come after with their proverbial torches and pitchforks, blaming the Luthors for all their problems. Just like Superman. Because, if Superman did it, who cared if it was all built on lies and fear-mongering? If Superman did it too, it must be okay; it must be right.

“Lena is nothing like her family!” In standing, her chair flew backwards, falling and clattering to the floor.

Clark was glaring at her like she had done it on purpose. In his mind, this was, no doubt, a victory already. In his warped logic, Kara’s rightful indignation and anger at the injustices that he was willing to commit against an innocent person—simply because she came from the wrong family and bore the wrong name—meant he was right. Him keeping his cool didn’t prove the veracity of his claims or the righteousness of his actions-to-be. He was just coolly wrong while she was burning, set ablaze with all the right arguments smoldering in her heart and her tongue tied.

Kara knew she needed to turn away now—turn before she snapped at his judgmental stare—and, she had almost made her mind up to do just that; to turn on her heels and storm off into the rain, or thunder up the stairs to her and Alex’s room, when Clark turned to Alex, saying, “Here she goes again.” in _that_ tone of voice, and Kara felt like a volcano erupting; fury sweeping away, rolling off her in ferocious waves.

“How dare you!” Part of her knew; remembered her mother's teachings. When tension ran high, she should always bring love instead of anger, extend an olive branch instead of enmity, but, sometimes, it wasn’t that easy; and sometimes, her mother was wrong; and sometimes, Kara just couldn’t do it. “I won’t let you hurt her! You hear me? You’ll have to go through me—”

Alex was in her line of vision—mouth thin, but eyes soft—holding out her hand to her with an unspoken plea, but Kara ignored it and stepped sideways to get a clear shot of Clark again, who, too, had gotten to his feet, hands on the back of his chair as he pushed it in.

“Kara,” he said, not meeting her gaze. “It’s clear you don’t know what you’re talking about. I'll walk away, if you need time to cool down; but, if you want to _listen_ instead of shout at me, I'm—” He heaved a sigh. “Oh, you know what—? I’m wasting my time, aren’t I? You, Kara Zor-El, would rather choose a Luthor over your own blood.” His words had an air of finality to them and no matter how hard she railed against them, nothing would change his mind.

“ _Kal-El_ ,” Kara ground his name between her teeth, her fury fraying the edges. It had gone cold, but still burned with a dangerous intensity, building up steam in her chest, and, burning her on their way out just as much as they would burn their target, words flew from her mouth; Kryptonian words that she never thought she'd think, let alone say out loud.

“ _From this day forward, I do not know you. From this day forward, I cut all ties_ —”

There was no way Clark Kent understood all of the venom that spilled from her lips—the words were too ancient, too sacred for him to know them all—but, from the look in Kal-El’s eyes, she knew instantly that they'd hit their mark regardless.

“— _between your blood and mine_ —”

If she didn’t stop now, stop immediately, their relationship would shatter and nothing would ever be the same again.

“ _From this day forward… forward, I… I no longer_ —”

“Kara!” He stood there, mouth open and eyes wide, his face that of a toddler expanded to adult size, and something inside Kara wobbled as their eyes met, toppling over in a pained yell as tears and heat erupted from behind hers, red-hot rays shooting out towards her cousin.

In her mind’s eye the rays hit, and Kal-El, her baby cousin Kal-El, fell to the ground, wailing in pain as she reached out helplessly, her heart torn in half and bleeding out into her chest; Kara slowly choking on her own blood. But, in reality, Clark—Superman—countered with a deep breath blown her way; a deep exhale so cold her tears glazed over before they had run down her cheeks.

“/ _Ewuhsh-u!_ /” The Kryptonian was stiff— a muscle that hadn’t been exercised in a long time. It hit her eardrums like a warning bell, breaking through her consciousness like a slap in the face, and Kara froze at the unmistakable command. Future simple, the highest order of command possibly given, an absolute imperative: _Will stop_.

Dazed, feeling herself shivering from head to toe, she slowly turned her head to find Eliza standing in the doorway, trembling hands balled into fists and pressed to her sides, crimson heat splattered all over her heaving chest and cheeks.

“Kara! Clark!” She took a step forward, pointing a rigid hand. “No powers in the house. Sit down.” Her voice was controlled, but, maybe for the first time ever, Kara fully appreciated that Eliza Danvers was Alex Danver’s mother. “Alexandra, out.” Even through the swelling ringing noise in her ears, Kara heard Alex gasp and scurry from the kitchen, no questions asked. Eyes lowered and face catching fire, she moved to pick up her chair, stooping low on shaky knees, and pulled it back towards the table before sinking down on it, placing her hands flat on the dark, worn wood.

“Unacceptable. Both of you. I never want to see anything like this from either of you ever again.” Eliza came to a stop at the head of the table, fixing them in turn as she went on. “I am highly disappointed in the two of you and there will be consequences.” Kara glanced up at Eliza, her ears hot and heart pounding out of her chest, tears no longer far away as she was met with a stern gaze. “Are we understood?”

“Yes, Eliza,” they answered in unison.

“I’m very sorry, _aunt_ Eliza.” Clark used the Kryptonian word for aunt; the honorific term of address that implied family—blood of my blood, my mother’s blood—but Eliza wasn’t that easily mollified.

“I will give your mother a call.” She picked up the big kitchen knife from the table and cut a few slices of cake. “This has gone on long enough—”

“I apologize,” Clark said again, then heaved a sigh. “But I can’t… I can’t do— _this_.”

Glancing up through her wet lashes, Kara caught him gesturing between them with a pained expression on his face, but Eliza wasn’t having any of that either.

“That’s quite enough,” she said, putting the knife down. “Kara is an adult and you are family.” With that, she turned to get the good Tupperware from the cupboard and, returning to the table, opened the large container with a soft pop, carefully sliding in cake slices, then closing it with a little more force than necessary. “Give my regards to Lois,” she said, holding out the box to Clark, who caught the dismissal and stood, his head bowed in deep respect. The suck-up.

“I will. Thank you.” He turned to leave, but Eliza’s parting words seized him by the neck before he could step out on the patio and shoot off into the clouds. “Love is love, Clark. Think about that, please?”

He nodded stiffly and, waiting for the inevitable whoosh that signaled her cousin’s departure, Kara’s gaze dropped back to her hands on the table. 3-2-1—and off he went. Back to Metropolis, back to Lois, back to his super-life, leaving Kara with an icky mix of emotions swirling in her belly and gluing her insides together. She was sad, and she was angry, and she was hurt, but—above all—she was slightly terrified at Eliza’s prolonged silence.

“He started it,” she muttered after a while, but Eliza immediately shut her down with a sharp look, and Kara just sat there, hanging her head as Eliza began cleaning up around her, collecting plates, and saucers, and cups; loading the dishwasher and letting the good silverware clatter into the sink. As she approached with the cake cover, she shot Kara another displeased, dissatisfied look, and Kara drew up her shoulders, feeling small, and miserable, and very, very sorry.

“Kara.” Eliza’s voice was calm, but Kara heard the disappointment behind it. “Please go to your room.”

Dashing the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, Kara nodded and, wordlessly, got to her feet, tears spilling down her cheeks as she slipped out of the kitchen with a choked “I’m sorry.” 

Pushing past a bewildered Alex in the hallway, she tore up the stairs and slammed the door behind her, before throwing herself onto her bed with a sob. Clutching her trusty plush turtle to her chest, she rolled over onto her side, hiding her face in the soft material as she burst into fresh tears.

It didn’t take all that long until there were footfalls on the stairs and a soft knock came at the door. Kara drew a shaky breath as Eliza entered and "I’m so sorry!" were her first words as she sat down on the bed next to her and put a hand on her back to get Kara to turn around. Kara rolled over. “I didn’t mean to ruin your birthday. I—”

Eliza simply pulled her into a hug and kissed her temple. “Oh, sweet girl. I don’t care about that.” She lifted her head and wiped the tears from her eyes. “But I don’t ever want to see you use your powers like that, Kara. No matter what.”

Kara sniffled. “I… It wasn’t on purpose.” 

“I know. I know.” She stroked her hair and kissed her forehead, while new tears formed in Kara’s eyes. “And we’ll need to work on that, won’t we?”

Kara looked down at her hands. “I just… got so angry. I—” Tears continued to flow as her attention shifted back to Eliza. “Why doesn’t he _get_ it?”

“He’ll come around, sweetheart. Give it time.” Eliza sighed, pulling Kara closer and wrapping her arms around her a little tighter. “There’s a lot of… history there.”

Kara snuggled in. “But… but Lena’s got nothing to do with that!”

Eliza hummed low in her chest. "Well, sweetheart, sometimes love is blind?" In that moment her arms squeezed yet a fraction tighter and Kara breathed more slowly, her body melting into Eliza's as her shoulders lost the tension they had been holding. “And Clark, he loves you a whole lot. We all do.”

Kara made a disgruntled noise that was muffled against Eliza’s chest. “He’s got a lousy way of showing it.”

“He’s just… very stressed.” Eliza stroked her head slowly, running her fingers through Kara’s hair. “What with all the attacks happening and with Lois being so poorly. Poor thing really drew the short stick with her morning sickness.”

“What—?” Kara untangled herself to gape at Eliza, forgetting, for a moment, how angry she was with Clark. “She is—? They’re…having a… _a baby_?”

“Oh, dear me.” Eliza laughed, shaking her head a little. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything.” Putting a finger to her lips, she smiled. “But yes. Martha is on her fourth or fifth pair of little shoes as we speak.”

Kara’s mouth fell open for real at that, digesting the information. There was a baby on the way. Her baby cousin Kal-El was about to become a father. 

“That’s…” Kara's throat constricted and emotion stung her eyes. Her heart was full of tears—happy, bittersweet—for nothing was more beautiful than family; a family growing from love. “Why— Why didn’t he tell me?” She heard her own voice break and felt the tears roll down her cheeks again, but didn’t sob.

“He will.” Eliza brushed Kara’s hair behind one ear, combing her fingers through the length of it and landing on Kara’s back, rubbing reassuring circles there as Kara leaned her head against her chest.

A small laugh escaped Kara’s lips. "After what I said? He’s never going to speak to me again, Eliza."

“He’ll calm down. And come back the Clark you love so much,” Eliza said, cupping Kara’s chin to lift it and have their eyes meet. “But you will have to be ready to hear him out when he does. Without losing your head.”

Kara nodded. “I’ll try.”

Eliza sighed, hands hitting her thighs as she exhaled. “Okay. That’s enough mom-talk for one afternoon.” She smiled at Kara. “Let’s go back downstairs and stop your sister from stress-eating her way through what’s left of the cake.”

“If he just… _met_ her,” Kara said, wiping tears from her face with her hand, her mind bouncing back and forth between her cousin and Lena as she clambered off the bed and followed Eliza down the stairs. “He would see… see her for who she really is. He’d… know her like I do!”

Eliza shot her a soft smile over her shoulder. “Let’s start small,” she said. “Let everyone get through the weekend first?”

They stepped through into the kitchen to find Alex sitting at the table, hands curled around a beer bottle and the remnants of the label scattered around it. “And since we’re expecting company, and very soon, I would very much appreciate you two—” She took the bottle from Alex’s hands and set it down in the sink.”—helping to get this place ready. Because it is not.”

“Vacuum!” Kara and Alex said at the same time, and Eliza laughed.

“Glad to see you’re both so eager.” She grinned. “Alex, the lawn will have to wait until tomorrow morning, but please go check the firepit and grill, and—once Kara is done with the vacuum downstairs—mob the kitchen floor and clean the counters? That would be a huge help.”

“Okay.” Alex nodded, then shot Kara a glare behind Eliza’s back. They both knew that vacuuming was the easiest chore.

“Kara—downstairs, stairs, upstairs. Take out the trash when you’re done.” Eliza gave the kitchen a sweeping glance and turned on the dishwasher. “And we’ll have to make sure that all things very… _extraterrestrial_ are out of sight. Anything that you don’t want to have to explain to our guests goes downstairs into the office.”

For the next few hours, Eliza was taskmaster and detail leader, organizing chores and keeping them on their feet, assigning and reassigning jobs to be completed before Maggie and Lena would arrive the next day and they would all spend Memorial Day weekend together.

Kara vacuumed—downstairs, then upstairs—checked under the beds and on the shelves for anything compromising, then took out the trash, and helped Eliza set up the guest room; making the bed and opening the windows to let the stuffy air out. Eliza had decided to put Maggie and Alex up in the guestroom, while Kara and Lena would be sharing her childhood bedroom; and, while Kara didn’t really mind, she did notice how the guest room only had a single queen-size bed, while her and Alex’s old beds were against opposite walls of the room. Sighing, she stripped the bedding on both beds and went to get clean linen from the closet in the hallway. 

By Friday morning, Kara was a bundle of nerves. As Alex, huffing and puffing, crossed the lawn to get the mower from the shed, she still sat at the kitchen table, her breakfast bowl of granola and fruit mostly untouched. She knew there was a box of Fruity Pebbles or Frosted Flakes stashed away somewhere in the cupboards, but Eliza usually made a point of serving her with a somewhat healthier breakfast whenever she could.

“So, Alex is going to take my car to the store,” Eliza said, surveying the contents of the fridge. “Anything still missing from the list?”

Kara sipped her orange juice, thinking. She had added candy, supplies for s'mores, and red wine to the shopping list already, and her fidgety mind couldn’t think of anything else right now. “Nope,” she said, glancing at the clock on the microwave. 10:43 a.m. She had to leave in under 30 minutes if she wanted to make it back to National City, turn in her Superman piece before the weekend—she had promised Cat that she would do so, even when she’d taken the day off—and still be on time to pick up Lena. They had decided that her coming to pick up Lena was probably better than having Lena arrive in a car from Luthor Corp. “Shoot, I gotta get ready!”

“Kara. That means you’ll have to take Jeremiah’s car, sweetheart,” Eliza called after her as she dashed up the stairs. “You’re okay to drive it, right?”

“Yeah!” Kara hollered back, all but stripping on her way to the bathroom to get under the shower. Jeremiah’s 1952 light blue Chevrolet Deluxe might not have been the most inconspicuous ride to roll up in, but Kara figured it was still better than anything Lena had at her disposal.

She showered in record time, put on a clean pair of jeans and a checkered blouse, and, on second thought, added a cute scarf and a stylish pair of shades—Alex’s—instead of her usual glasses. 

“Keys?” Skidding to a halt in the kitchen, she shifted her weight from one leg to the other as Eliza gave her the once-over and smiled.

“Are you sure about the sunglasses, sweetheart?” she asked. “I’d feel better if you put on your regular glasses.”

“Those are mine anyway.” Alex walked in, grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with tap water, knocking it all back in one large gulp, before putting the glass down in the sink. “Phew. It’s getting hot out there. We should roll out the awning deck.”

Eliza made a ‘be my guest’ gesture at Alex’s remark, then turned her attention back to Kara, who, reluctantly, had exchanged the shades for her glasses and stood, still waiting for information on the whereabouts of the car keys. “Better.” She moved to clear Kara’s abandoned bowl from the table and, halfway to the sink, frowned, before holding it out to her. “Kara, you’ve hardly eaten anything?”

Wanting to cut the discussion short, Kara simply took it, shoveling spoonfuls into her mouth as fast as she could without choking. “Keys?” she asked again—around a big mouthful—and promptly spilled the next spoonful of strawberry and peach down her front. “Dang!”

Alex laughed, and even Eliza’s mouth twitched suspiciously.

“I don’t have time for this.” Kara tried rubbing at the stain with the dish-cloth—a deed she was promptly chided for by Eliza—and, instructed to leave the blouse with Eliza to take care of it instead, Kara sped back upstairs to change once more, grabbing the first clean shirt at the top of the pile in her closet and pulling it over her head. It was a baggy tie-dye shirt that she tied into a knot on the side, before slamming the closet door shut. She was late, late, late. And, if she didn’t get going at once, she would never make it—not even, if Jeremiah’s old car had been a flying spaceship in disguise.

When she thundered back downstairs, Eliza was already waiting for her in the hallway, exchanging her ruined blouse for a set of car keys.

“Bye, I’m late. Bye.” Kara said, quickly pulling Eliza into a hug.

“Don’t kill the car or I’m going to have to kill you!” came Alex’s voice from the kitchen.

“Alexandra!” Eliza shook her head. “Drive safely. You’ll be back in—?”

“Uhh,” Kara said, blowing out a breath. “Couple hours, tops?”

Before Eliza could ask for a more specific time of arrival, she was already out the fire door and ten steps into the garage— only to realize that the garage was already open and the Chevrolet stood, waiting for her, in the driveway.

Frowning, Kara got in, turned the keys in the ignition, and backed out of the winding driveway onto the street, before she shot down Pilot House Road as fast as the speed limit would allow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, two things:
> 
> \- Apparently, there's [dispute](https://dcmultiversehistorian.wordpress.com/2015/11/24/when-is-supermans-actual-birthday/#:~:text=Clark%20Kent%20has%20a%20different,was%20adopted%20by%20the%20Kents.) about Clark's/Superman's (Earth) birthday. I'm going with Smallville canon (May) here, because it fits the story. 
> 
> \- The lovely Chevrolet belongs to space dad, of course, but since space dad isn't part of this story and I still very much wanted the damn car, let's pretend for a second that Jeremiah Danvers was cool and well, grand theft auto. xD


	13. The Game

The minute she pulled up to the curb, a door opened. It was an unassuming door, the same color as the building. A blink and you’d miss it kind of door, opening out onto the narrow back alley behind Luthor Corp. Before Kara could do more than kill the engine, a figure stepped through—long summer dress, large sunhat, and a pair of shades—struggling with a large duffle bag, a purse, and a gift bag.

Kara grinned, got out of the car, and hurried across the street to lend a hand.

“So, that’s what you’re wearing when you’re going incognito?” She asked, taking Lena’s duffle from her and easily swinging it over her shoulder as they walked towards the car.

“And that’s the car we’re supposed to ‘blend in’ in?” Lena raised one eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk.

“My sister’s got the Volvo,” Kara said, warmth pooling in her cheeks as she opened the passenger door for Lena. “This… was my foster dad’s.”

“Thank you. Vintage car fan?”

“Not really. But he did like this one. A lot.”

“It is in great shape,” Lena said, an appreciative hand running over sun-warmed metal. “Nice color too.” Lena took off her hat and gently put it down on top of her bag in the back. Not a single hair was out of place. Kara had to fight the impulse to reach across and run her fingers through the dark waves cascading down Lena’s back. 

She started the engine and, with it, the radio spluttered to life at once, blasting The Bangles on National City FM104.

“You can change it if you want?”

Lena shook her head. She had buckled in, but sat very straight, almost at the edge of her seat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

Biting her lip, Kara turned her attention to the road and smoothed into traffic. “You okay?”

“Yes, sorry.” With a little sigh, Lena turned in her seat to smile at her. “Just… I’m really looking forward to getting out of the city?”

“As you wish.” Kara nodded, gently stepping on the gas and coaxing a steady purring sound from the engine as she passed an SUV and a pickup. Alex would kill her, if she scratched the car, but really, she wasn’t going that fast. She was a really good driver—four out of five days anyway—and she too couldn’t wait to get out of National City and back to Midvale. “We got a whole weekend of fun ahead of us.”

Lena still smiled, inclining her head, but Kara could tell something was bothering her. Reaching for the radio, she turned down the volume a bit, noticing how Lena’s shoulders relaxed with the slow song now playing more softly. She could relate. Sometimes the noise of the city got to her too. Sometimes life was just too loud.

Biting back her usual happy chatter, Kara focused on the road ahead, only intermittently glancing over at Lena, who was looking out at passing cars, and buildings, and flashing billboards, but didn’t comment on anything.

They drove in silence for a while, the city growing smaller in the rear-view mirror and their surroundings turning greener with every mile. Outside the city limits, the road was less busy and Kara dropped one hand from the wheel as her attention kept darting to Lena.

She was still silent and mostly still, but Kara knew what the little touches to the forehead and temples meant; she knew that—behind those dark shades—Lena’s eyes were probably narrowed and squinting against the little light that still managed to reach them. Kara Danvers had been Cat Grant’s assistant for far too long not to recognize the tell-tale signs of a migraine building or, at least, a massive headache.

After quickly checking the road, Kara leaned over and tapped the glove compartment, opening it with nimble fingers. “Check somewhere on the right,” she said. “There’s a bottle of water behind your seat.”

“Hmm?” Lena turned towards her, frowning slightly as she pushed her sunglasses up on her head. Blinking rapidly against the sudden brightness, she shaded her eyes with one hand. “Sorry, I— what are you looking for? I—I didn’t catch that.”

“There’s Advil in there somewhere,” Kara clarified, shooting Lena a sympathetic smile. “For your headache?”

Lena’s lips parted, but she didn’t answer immediately, and her voice was small when she finally mumbled a soft, “I— It’s really not that bad. I didn’t want to…” in Kara’s general direction, her gaze dropping to the nervous hands in her lap as she trailed off. Kara watched heat travel up her neck and paint her cheeks pink in real time. “I’m sorry.”

There she went again, suffering in silence, apologizing for things outside of her control. Kara shook her head.

“Lena—”

“I’m sure it’s going to pass,” Lena whispered, still not meeting Kara’s gaze, but Kara wasn’t having it. Left hand firmly on the wheel, she squeezed Lena’s thigh reassuringly, before tapping the dashboard above the glove compartment with a flat hand.

“Please? Just check? You don’t have to take anything, of course not, but Lena, you’re in pain and I don’t like it.”

Lena squirmed under her unusually stern tone, but, whatever expression she found on Kara’s face as she glanced up at it, was enough for her to give in and rummage for the Advil. Kara let her right hand slide down to Lena’s knee to give it a light, satisfied pat as she heard pills being popped from the blister. She felt Lena move as she twisted in her seat for the water bottle.

Lena was worse than Alex. Why some humans insisted that enduring pain was a sign of strength or willpower or whatever, when there was effective medicine readily available and within reach, Kara would never understand.

Kara kept her eyes on the road, but smiled when Lena’s hand found hers and Lena laced their fingers together before giving it two shy squeezes. Kara squeezed back once.

Anytime. Always.

It took roughly 25 minutes for the Advil to kick in—Kara made a mental note—and she could have sworn, she physically felt the tension roll off Lena and evaporate in the afternoon heat.

Kara smiled. Just in time. She could already taste the salt on her tongue, her lungs filling with heady air as their surroundings changed into shades of green, only punctured by highways and jagged cliffs. 

“Oh!” Lena sat up as Kara drove them towards town; down the highway overlooking the water and mountains, and, remembering Lena’s reaction to the sea on their first date, Kara squeezed their linked hands, but Lena just turned to her with a big smile on her face. “It is exceptionally beautiful, isn’t it?”

Adorably enraptured by the landscape, the harbour, the bridge, and the town sign, Lena pointed and commented, using words like _quaint_ and _picturesque,_ and leaving Kara in stitches. They passed the school and the stadium, her favorite café, and the little corner bakery, and, through Lena’s eyes, everything seemed so much brighter and much more charming and—the figurative smell of fresh paint in her nose—Kara’s warm feelings of childhood and familiarity mingled with a newfound curiosity for her little hometown.

The buildings were an amazing jumble of different styles: rickety wooden shops, marble and brick houses, a huge stone church. Over the years, everything had been touched and changed by the sea and the sun— and, even now, sunlight was everywhere: in the heat shimmering and dancing in midair, in the vivid colors, in the smells of seaweed and overripe fruit.

She slowed down the car to a crawl as they passed the town square, the Chevy rolling past the greengrocer with his window full of cherries and oranges, and the butcher with his bloody lumps of meat on display and naked chickens hanging up; the small bank, the grocery store, and the electrical shop; and then they came out the other side onto the narrow road where there were no people anymore and very few cars.

“Here we are!” Kara exclaimed as they arrived at 4767 Pilot House Road and she pulled into the driveway. Eliza’s Volvo was already there— and so was Maggie’s battered NCPD car. Lena raised an eyebrow at it.

“My sister’s girlfriend is in law enforcement,” she explained, grinning as they got out of the car, but Lena was only half listening as she nodded, her wide eyes taking in the large house and the colorful, but immaculate, front yard.

“This is where you grew up?” She said, plucking her sunglasses from her hair and tucking a strand of hair behind one ear.

“Yep.”

“Huh.” Lena cocked her head, and Kara laughed at the uncharacteristically inarticulate response.

“Wait until you see the rest of the house.” Before Lena could protest, Kara had grabbed her heavy duffle and sunhat, leaving Lena with her purse and the gift bag to carry as she followed Kara to the blue front door. It wasn’t locked, held open by the ugly stone toad that subbed as a doorstop. Stone toad in the door meant summer had come to the Danvers house. Stone toad meant everyone was out on the porch or in the garden. 

“Hey, Eliza, Alex,” Kara hollered before she had even fully stepped inside. “We’re here!”

She dropped Lena’s bag at the foot of the stairs and Lena bent down to leave her purse with it, before the two of them ran into Eliza in the kitchen. She was cutting fruit, scraping strawberries off her chopping board and into a large bowl of fruit-salad-to-be on the counter.

“Hey, sweetheart. Everyone’s out back.” Eliza washed her hands at the sink and quickly dried them on a dish towel before hugging Kara hello.

“Now, let’s have a look at the pretty girl my daughter is so enamoured with? Hi, I’m Eliza Danvers. Welcome.”

Kara watched with bated breath as Eliza’s eyes fell on Lena. Beautiful Lena in her stunning black, floral-print dress and heels, with her hair tucked sweetly behind one ear and her cheeks tinged pale pink, a bashful smile on her lips, but a polite hand held out nonetheless.

“Hello, Dr. Danvers.” Lena’s voice was silk, just the right volume and temperature. “Nice to meet you.”

“Hello, Lena.” Eliza took Lena’s hand in both of hers. “Please, call me Eliza, dear. Everyone does.”

Lena nodded. “Thank you for having me,” she said, holding out the gift bag she had brought. “You have a lovely home.” Lena said it with a smile, the emphasis on the lovely. There was the hint of an accent glinting between the syllables as the word rolled off her tongue in that warm voice. Hearing Lena talk was like honey, butter, sunshine—and yet, Kara hardly recognized this version of her. So warm, but tempering her own warmth; genuine, but every word controlled and measured at the same time.

“I’m so happy to have you here,” Eliza said. “Thank you.”

Kara stood, watching and listening as Eliza admired the book and thanked Lena for the wine. Lena made conversation about the research that, according to the author’s note, had gone into the book, and Kara was absolutely convinced that this was what _listening_ to an eclipse was like. Lena eclipsed herself.

“Mom!” Alex called from somewhere outside. “Where are the other seat cushions? The green ones?”

“Alexandra, don’t use the green ones! Mrs. Peterson’s cat had kittens on those.” Laughing, Eliza shook her head. “Excuse me.” She smiled at Lena, then turned to Kara. “Show her upstairs, okay, sweetheart?”

“Okay. Come on.” Kara took Lena by the hand and they made their way upstairs to the bedroom that they would be sharing for the weekend, walking past picture frames and open doors.

“Master bedroom, guestroom—Alex and Maggie’s for the weekend—, second study,” Kara narrated, pointing out doorways. “The bathroom’s over there—” she pointed to the right— “and this is us.” Grinning, she stepped aside to let Lena enter first, not wanting to miss her reaction.

Kara blushed as she followed Lena’s line of vision, her gaze travelling from the window reading nook and the open bookcases to the beds, and finally landing on the *NSYNC posters on Kara’s side of the room.

“Just ignore the posters.”

“Never.” Lena laughed, then turned to Kara with a grin and a quirked eyebrow. “JT’s my favorite, you know.”

Sinking down on her bed and patting the spot next to her, Kara pretended to think about that information like it was the nuclear codes. “Actually, I— I don’t know about that,” she said slowly, her hesitance earning her an incredulous look from Lena.

“Excuse me?” Lena sat down next to her, crossing both her arms and legs, the cute mock-pout on her face making Kara bite her lip not to laugh out loud.

“Okay, I mean, I love him, I do. I— I love him, but... Come on! JT has got to be the only one holding up the reunion right now!”

“Oh, obviously!” Lena agreed. “But, here, let me ask you this, right? Would you rather have an *NSYNC reunion…” Grinning, she gestured with her hands. “Or JT and Britney back together?”

“Oh! My OTP!” Kara’s fist found her chest and they both chuckled. “That's an impossible question to answer, and you're cruel for asking!”

“Yeah, well, you know, sometimes the Luthor in me just shines through.”

That wicked smirk would be the death of her. Kara leaned closer, her hands finding Lena’s legs of their own accord. “Really? I think that’s all you, Lena. And you’re doing it on purpose.”

Lena inhaled sharply. “What? What exactly are you accusing me of?” Her voice was like a radio losing its signal, pitch dropping then rising, and her heart was a loud metronome in her chest as Kara scooted yet a little closer, pointing an accusatory finger. “All I did was ask a simple question.”

Kara laughed and Lena joined in—and just like that the tension fizzled out into the soft duvet they were sitting on.

“Okay. How about we go see what everyone else is up to?” Kara suggested. If they didn’t make an appearance on the porch and soon, Alex would surely find an excuse to poke her head in the door anyway.

“Lead the way.”

Kara wasn’t leading so much as she was gently pulling Lena with her—through the living room and past the many rows of books on Eliza’s bookshelves that had caught Lena’s attention. They had almost reached the porch, when the sounds of a very familiar game in progress hit her ears, and Kara grinned. Oh, this was going to be fun.

“Bullshit! That’s absolute and utter _bullshit_ , Mags!”

Kara grinned at the cheeky pleasure in her sister’s voice, but one half-step behind her, Lena had stopped short, their arms pulled taut when Kara took a second too long to notice. She turned to find a frown on Lena’s face—a frown that made zero sense there—and her own eyebrows knitted together in confusion as she watched Lena’s shoulders fly up when Maggie’s equally loud retort came floating in from the porch.

“Hey.” Kara bumped her shoulder to Lena’s as gently as she could. “You okay?”

“Are you sure—” Lena’s heart was beating fast and Kara didn’t understand what had prompted it. Was she… nervous? But why? “Now’s a… a good time?”

Good time? Good time for what? Kara shook her head slightly. Lena wasn’t making any sense.

“Yeah, perfect timing, actually. Come on, let’s say hi.” Kara couldn’t read Lena’s odd expression, but squeezed her hand anyway and stepped out onto the porch where everyone sat around a game of Bullshit. 

“Alex, your mother says she's got three kings.” Maggie leaned back in her chair, grinning at Alex across the table.

“Yeah, that’s right. I do.”

Kara smiled at Eliza’s absolute inability to lie. She could keep a secret when she had to, but deliberately lying to the people she loved? To her family? That just wasn’t Eliza Danvers.

“Okay, Eliza. Now, dare I say it, or not?” Maggie giggled around the knuckles pressed to her lips. “Okay, I’m just going to say it—” Laughing, she drew breath and pointed at Eliza. “Bullshit!”

“Very good, Detective.” Eliza picked up the discard pile and added it to her hand.

“Hi!” Kara said loudly, making Alex—who had her back to her—jump and Maggie laugh at her expense. “Mind if we join you?” She pulled on Lena’s hand, so she would step out from behind her, and put an arm around her middle, grinning broadly at the three faces turned their way. “Hey, everyone. So, this is Lena. Lena—meet everybody?”

Maggie put her cards down, got to her feet, and held out a hand. “Detective Maggie Sawyer, NCPD. Nice to meet you.”

Lena smiled, taking a step forward to shake it. “Lena Luthor. Pleasure is all mine.”

They shook, sizing each other up, and Alex groaned. 

“Babe. Do you _have to_ do that?” She had turned in her seat, but remained seated, running a hand over her eyes. “Every time…”

“What? It’s… who I am?” Maggie said. “And, unlike _some people_ , I wasn’t raised in a barn, Danvers.”

“Careful now,” Eliza warned, her gaze stern, but tone playful.

Alex rolled her eyes, then turned her attention to Lena. “Hi. I’m Alex.”

“Hi.”

They exchanged a quick nod, but before Kara could fret about anything, Alex pulled out the chair next to her and gave the seat cushion a pat, smiling. “Come have a seat, Lena. And get my sister to get everyone drinks?” She grinned, tapping the bottle in front of her. “Running low.”

“Oh, you’re not the boss of me, you know.” Kara glared at Alex as Lena moved to take the proffered seat, but Alex shot her down with a pointed look and, with an exaggerated sigh and uncrossing her arms, Kara gave in.

“Fine.” She huffed, but winked at Lena when their eyes met. Badly. “Taking orders now,” she said, pretending to be taking notes on her palm. “Shoot.”

Eliza got to her feet and handed her the big-bellied water jug. “Refill, please, love. Don’t forget the ice.”

Kara nodded. “Lena?”

“Just water’s perfect, thank you, Kara.”

Kara saw Alex’s shoulders jerk with a suppressed laugh. Grinning, she shifted the jug to just one hand, putting the other—damp and cold—on Alex’s neck and making her yelp in surprise.

“Hey! Ugh, Kara!”

Sniggering, Kara stepped back before Alex could grab her. “Maggie?”

“I’m good,” Maggie said, nodding at the soda to her right. “Coming with you, though. Gotta get my phone.”

“Okay.” Kara pretended to turn on her heel—prompting another “Hey!” from her sister—and laughed. “Yes? Alex?”

“Another beer, please?” Catching Eliza’s eye, she quickly amended. “ _Root_ … beer. Thanks.”

Still laughing, Kara ducked inside; and she and Maggie made their way to the hallway, Maggie taking a left into the guestroom where Kara made a right for the stairs. Before they parted ways, though, Maggie’s hand was on Kara’s back, followed by a laugh and an appreciative — “ _Damn_ , Little Danvers.”— that had Kara turn, confused, before she cottoned on.

“Well,” she said, licking her lips and forcing them into a smirk. “D-Danvers women… know how to… pick ‘em?”

Maggie tilted her head. “Aww. Pro tip: Don’t… don’t do that.” She grinned. “Like, ever? Around people?” She patted Kara’s arm. “But cute. Very cute.”

Laughing at Kara’s dumbfounded expression, Maggie vanished behind the door and Kara shrugged, skipping down the steps and into the kitchen, humming that one song that was always on the radio.

When she returned to the porch, carefully balancing a full water jug, a root beer, and a soda, Alex and Maggie were in the middle of teaching Lena the ins and outs of Bullshit.

“The trick is to get rid of all the cards in your hand, all right?” Maggie said, leaning towards Lena. “So, I’m going to look in my hand—” She glanced down at her cards— “and I’m going to see what I’ve got here. And, well, what do you know?” She put down two cards on the pile. “I’ve got two aces here.”

Lena frowned, eyes darting to the cards in her hand, to Maggie’s face, and back to her cards again.

“Well, two aces,” Maggie prompted. “What do you say to that, Luthor?”

“Yeah, what are you going to say?” Alex chimed in, wiggling her eyebrows and making Lena laugh. Kara wanted to hug them both.

“I— I say… bullshit.”

“What did she say?” Eliza said, cupping a hand behind one ear. “I didn’t quite hear. Did you guys—?”

“I didn’t hear a thing.” Kara said, setting down the drinks on the table before she took a seat opposite Lena. “What did you say, Lena?”

Her eyes narrowing, Lena shot her a look. “I said… _bullshit_!” She bit her lip, her cheeks turning a deep shade of pink, and Kara blew her a kiss across the table, making it very much worse.

“Alright!” Alex’s flat hand slapped the table.

“She knows how to play the game,” Maggie agreed, resting her chin on her palm and watching Lena with mirth twinkling in her eyes. “Don’t you, Luthor? Know how to play?”

Lena returned her gaze, holding it for a solid five seconds, before quirking one eyebrow. “Yes.”

“Okay, then.” Alex motioned for all cards, shuffled the deck thoroughly, and dealt until there weren’t any left. “We’re going to start at the beginning now. So, we go to twos.” She turned her attention to Eliza and Kara. “Family rule or real rule?”

“Family!” Kara said immediately, and Eliza chuckled.

“Of course.” Alex shook her head at her. “Go ahead then.”

“Actually,” Kara said, grinning as she organized her cards. “‘Youngest begins’ means it’s Lena’s turn.”

All eyes swung to Lena, who ducked her head at the unexpected attention.

“Alright then.” Alex laughed. “Your turn, kid.”

Lena chewed her lip, but didn’t challenge the term. She put two cards face down in the center of the table — “Two twos.” — and the play moved clockwise and on to Eliza, who didn’t challenge the claim, calling out “Four threes.”

“Two fours.”

“Nope, just pick them up, Kara. Bullshit.” Kara’s hand was still on the cards when Maggie called her out and she had to reveal a two and a three, before adding the whole pile to her hand.

“Three fives.” Maggie stated, and she and Alex engaged in a minutes-long staring contest across the table that ended with a kiss— and with Alex knowing better than to challenge her girlfriend— for this round, anyway.

“I’ve got myself a six here,” Alex said, nonchalant, and Kara didn’t doubt her for a second, but, apparently, Lena wasn’t buying it.

“Bullshit.”

“Nice catch,” Maggie said—even before Alex’s six turned out to be a four of hearts—and she raised a hand to share a lazy high-five with Kara as Alex grumbled something into her growing hand. “Alex, my love, looks like we’re starting a little card collection, hmm?”

“Whatever, just let me get back on track here.”

Lena smirked. “One seven.”

After a couple rounds around the table, it was pretty clear that Eliza and she were no match for the other three. Kara was usually, well, at least _decent_ at Bullshit, but the longer the game went on, the more she found herself too distracted by Lena’s uncanny ability to catch Alex in each and every lie to even care that Maggie easily called out all her bluffs too. Lena was kicking Alex’s butt in Bullshit and Kara was here for it. 

“Two jacks.”

“Wrong. Bull… shit.” Lena shook her head and Alex groaned.

“Oh, Come on!”

Eliza clapped her hands. “Oh, very good, Lena,” she praised, and Kara watched as Lena hid her face behind her cards for a second, a shy smile on her features when she resurfaced.

“Uh-huh. What is that— seven in a row, Alex?” Kara asked innocently. “I think somebody’s met her match.” They stuck their tongues out at each other— until Eliza told them to put them away and focus on the game, please. 

Maggie took a sip of her soda. “Mm-hmm. Human lie detector Luthor. We could use you at my division.”

“Which is that?” Lena asked, fingers hovering over her cards.

“Science Police division,” Maggie said. “We deal with aliens and all things that go bump in the night, basically.”

“‘Bump in the night’, hmm?” Lena grinned. “Fascinating.” She put down two cards. “Two queens.”

Eliza clucked her tongue. “I’m sorry, honey, but that’s… well, you know.”

“Bullshit!” Alex and Kara hollered together, and everyone laughed.

They survived two whole rounds without anyone lying their head off about what they put on the table. Well, Kara knew she wasn’t lying. Bullshit was all about being able to read people, but Maggie, Lena, and Alex might as well have been written in code. At least with Alex, Kara knew some of the tells, but Maggie and Lena were much harder.

“Well, try this one: Four threes.”

Lena’s eyes narrowed as she studied Alex’s face. When she opened her mouth, Alex stopped her by pointing at the scoreboard next to the door.

“You see whose name's on top of the board over there?” Alex asked, tapping that pointer finger to her lips.

“Yes, it says ‘Alex’ with a star next to it,” Lena said, her voice level, but her lip twitched. “You must be _so_ _proud_.”

“Ooh-ooh, shots fired.” Maggie laughed. “I like this girl.”

“I am.” Alex put her cards down and leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms over her head. “You still want to bullshit me?”

Lena hesitated, biting down on her thumb. She turned to Kara. “Kara? Some help here?”

Grinning, Kara pointed at her chest. “Well, I’d say—”

“Nah, nah, nah, no!” Alex cut in, sitting up straight.

Lena mouthed ‘bullshit?’ and Kara shook her head, before she dissolved into giggles.

“Kara, you know it's cheating when you do that,” Alex complained, but Kara just stuck her chin out and held her nose up snootily. “I don't know what you’re talking about. I didn’t say nothing.”

Alex crossed her arms, and the rest of the table laughed.

“Betrayed by my own sister!” She grumbled. “And you—!” She turned on Maggie, who hastily set her drink down, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “You’re hiding behind a badge. Some cop you are, Maggie Sawyer. And some girlfriend.”

“I didn't see anything,” Maggie said, her poker face game the strongest yet, before her face split into a wide smile and she cocked her head in that way that usually had Alex forgive her in 0.5 seconds flat. It worked.

“Cheated out of an epic—” Alex said. “Well, keep my name on top of the board. This doesn’t count.” She pointed a finger at Lena, who scrunched her nose in response. “I’ll have you know; you would have been dry-gulched if it weren’t for these… cheaters.”

“Charming,” Lena deadpanned. “Have you been talking to my brother?”

After a moment of trepidation and shocked silence, Lena laughed and everyone else followed suit.

“Oof,” Maggie gasped, hands pressed to her side. “Savage.”

“What am I?” Kara was still hiccupping from laughing tears and, not only had she lost count, but she was also pretty sure Maggie had caught a glimpse of her cards earlier. She was toast. Glancing at Alex, she bit her lip, then signaled Lena with her eyes, sending an S.O.S. across the table for help.

“Sixes to you,” Lena supplied, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes with her thumb.

The pile on the table was massive and Maggie looked at her like a cheetah looked at prey, and Kara’s pleading eyes found Lena’s again as her lip wobbled.

Without another word and under Alex’s vehement protests, Lena left her own cards in a pile at her place and walked around the table to crouch down next to Kara’s chair, taking her cards from her hands and shuffling them, before helping her reorganize, and whispering in her ear. Perhaps, with Lena as her champion, she would live. 

“Playing dirty now, I see.” Maggie shook her head. “Bring it then, you two.”

“I— I’m going to have to hurt you,” Alex said, getting to her feet as well to join Maggie. “Unbelievable.”

“Okay,” Eliza laughed. “You girls figure it out while I put the finishing touches on the lasagna. It’s almost dinner time.”

Lena looked up from behind the trenches at once. “Do you need any help?”

“No, thank you, Lena, love. You stay right here and have fun.”

They fused their hands together; taking turns, but playing as teams of two, drawing from and adding to the same set of cards. The ensuing battle was the dirtiest and bloodiest the porch of 4767 Pilot House Road had ever seen.

They only called a truce, when Eliza called for Alex and Kara to come and set the table, and Alex and Maggie were still bickering over strategy when they had sat down for dinner in the kitchen.

“Now, Lena, I hope you know that we are expecting you to come back here,” Eliza said, smiling, “because you have held our Alex to her lowest Bullshit score—”

“Yeah, yeah.” Alex mumbled, pointing her fork at Kara in warning.

“Since her tonsillectomy,” Kara chimed in, grinning.

“And we are thrilled!” Maggie finished, planting a greasy kiss on Alex’s cheek.

Lena laughed. “Why, were all her other girl… friends Bullshit losers?” Lena’s tongue stumbled over the word and so did Kara’s ears. Kara’s cheeks burned as she stared at her lasagna.

“What other girlfriends?” Eliza laughed, getting to her feet and picking up the baking dish.

“Yeah, she's picky,” Alex said, a merciless grin on her face. “You are the first girl she's ever brought home, you know.”

Lena’s cheeks were as pink as Kara’s felt hot and, when their eyes met for a charged second, they both looked away hastily.

“Don't you break her heart, now, dear,” Eliza said, a gentle smile in her voice as she touched a hand to Lena’s shoulder on her way to the fridge. Plates were almost cleared; time for dessert.

Alex swallowed her last bite of lasagna. “You see, Kara's never been that great at Bullshit, but why?” Her eyes twinkled dangerously, and Kara glared at her sister. Alex was enjoying this way too much.

“Just because your sister’s so pure of heart,” Eliza said, setting down the tray of fruit bowls in the middle of the table.

“Sooo pure of heart,” Alex rolled her eyes. “ _Bullshit_ , Mama.”

“Alexandra!” Eliza laughed. “Now, who wants whipped cream?”

After dinner, with their bellies full of delicious lasagna and fruit salad with whipped cream, everyone went to lounge in the living room.

When Eliza excused herself, making her way upstairs with a book tucked under one arm, there were pillows and blankets everywhere. Kara had made the popcorn and Alex had gotten the drinks. Everyone watched Grease, but Kara paid the movie as much attention as she’d once done class presentations in History class. It wasn’t that it was a bad movie—not at all—but it couldn’t compete with the feeling of Lena sitting in her lap—all snuggled up, warm and happy—and Kara’s arms wrapped securely around her middle, chin resting on Lena’s shoulder.

“It’s the leather jackets,” Maggie said, and Lena inclined her glass, clinking it to Maggie’s before they both took a sip of their scotch. Kara made a mental note to raid Alex’s closet the first chance she got.


	14. The Teacher

Kara slept better with someone else in the room. Growing up sharing a room with Alex and then moving out to live on her own had been quite an adjustment. It was the little things she missed the most when she tossed and turned, sleeping alone in her apartment. Rustling sheets, deep breathing, the small sighs that came with sleep, a resting heartbeat. Somehow, it made the night less dark; made her feel less alone.

Alex was a heavy sleeper who, thankfully, did not snore, but moved around a lot. She claimed she never remembered her dreams, but whatever they were, they often had her panting and struggling; her heart rate spiking before she woke up tangled in her sheets and strangling a pillow, mumbling soft curses under her breath as she came to fully. They didn’t talk about it. Kara had learned the hard way not to ask questions before coffee.

Lena, however, was the complete opposite. Quiet as a mouse, she didn’t move at all. Also, like a timid prey animal, the faintest sound was enough to startle her awake and play a fast up-bow staccato on her heartstrings until she was fully alert and aware of her surroundings.

Kara didn’t comment, pretending to be asleep and making herself as heavy and quiet as possible. She could relate. Falling asleep in a strange bed was never easy. The few times she had attempted to stay at a friend’s house for a sleepover, nine out of ten times Eliza or Jeremiah had had to come pick her up in the middle of the night. And the times that she did stay, she usually didn’t sleep at all. Sometimes, she got lucky and found someone who was more than happy to stay up talking. Then it was less weird. However, she wasn’t sure if Lena was up for that, so she didn’t strike up a conversation.

When she opened her eyes to a blue-skied Saturday morning and rolled over, Lena was already awake, sitting up against the headboard and reading something on her iPad. 

Propping herself up on one elbow, Kara watched for a moment, captivated by the sight of Lena in the soft morning light. Even with no make-up on and with her hair in a loose braid, she looked amazing.

“It’s the weekend, Lena.”

Lena’s eyes stayed glued to the screen, but a small smile began to rise on her face, making nonsense of her focused frown. “In my line of work, there are no weekends, Kara.”

“That’s just… wrong,” Kara said, sitting up and stretching her arms over her head until her shoulders popped and her knuckles cracked. “Saturdays are for sleeping in, cartoons, and not changing out of your pyjamas until, at least, noon. Not for… whatever is happening here.”

She wasn’t sure whether it was her words or her goofy grin that drew a laugh from Lena, but Lena did laugh and put the tablet down on the nightstand, turning her full attention to Kara.

“Cartoons?”

“Yeah.” Kara nodded eagerly. “You know, curling up on the couch with a bowl of cereal and Scooby-Doo? Best start to any day.”

“That’s the one with a group of teenagers and a talking Great Dane, isn’t it?” Lena asked, cocking her head, her eyebrows knitting together as if Kara were a tricky puzzle that she intended to solve before breakfast.

“Yes.” Kara laughed, then paused and looked at Lena. “You—you’ve seen Scooby-Doo, right?”

“Not really.”

“What?” Kara studied Lena’s face for a moment longer—to gauge whether or not she was pulling her leg. _Everyone_ knew Scooby-Doo, didn’t they?—but Lena just looked back at her with a mildly amused expression. “But—Lena? It’s only the best Saturday-morning cartoon ever?”

Lena gave an apologetic half-shrug. “I—I truly wouldn’t know, Kara.”

“Oh, come on.” Kara still wasn’t fully convinced Lena wasn’t joking. “What did you do on Saturdays then? As a kid?”

Lena looked away briefly and when their eyes met again, there was color in her cheeks. “Fencing,” she mumbled. “Fencing practice?”

Well, that wasn’t an answer Kara had anticipated, but that made it even better. Grinning, she flopped back onto her side, resting her chin in one hand. “Fencing? What’s that like?”

Lena opened her mouth, but then closed it again, seemingly reconsidering her words. “Lots of technical training. Warm up and footwork, followed by drills,” she said.

“And, you wear the—” Kara gestured with her free hand, molding an invisible uniform and pretend-mask, and Lena nodded.

“Yes. Except for footwork. That’s done not in kit, without any weapons,” she explained. “You simply move backwards and forwards, lunging and recovering; following your coach’s commands. You only need weapons for drills, when you practice a specific action or hit.”

“Did you like it?” Kara asked, trying to picture a younger Lena in one of the white uniforms she had seen on TV.

“I was… decent at it.” Lena shrugged, arms wrapping around her knees under the duvet. “Almost made the Olympics.”

“That’s… wow.” Kara felt her mouth go slack and fall open, before she closed it forcefully and beamed at Lena. “That’s amazing, Lena! Your—your family must have been proud?”

Even before she had finished the question, Kara knew she had skidded onto thin ice, and she didn’t miss the way Lena’s expression shifted, fast-forwarding through a jumble of emotions, before she schooled it into a polite smile.

“I—I mean, uh, that’s something to be proud of?”

She was stepping in it now; stepping in it like it was a muddy puddle and she had no boots on, her idiot mouth running away with her regardless and making a mess.

“I… I think it’s really cool?” She tried again, looking up at Lena with her lip caught between her teeth; and Lena’s cool smile finally thawed as her features relaxed.

“Thank you.”

Seized by a silly thought, Kara threw back her covers and jumped out of bed, fake-challenging Lena with a bolster. “You… could show me?” Her mischievous grin was met with an incredulous stare and, laughing, Lena let go of her legs, swinging them out of bed.

“Absolutely not.” She grinned, pointing over her shoulder. “Besides, I am unarmed.”

“Okay,” Kara said, glancing at her alarm clock and throwing the bolster back onto her bed. “But we _are_ watching cartoons. Come on.”

Lena shook her head. “Kara—” She untangled herself from her blanket and stood, brushing invisible lint from her burgundy pyjamas. “Shouldn’t we… you know, shower and get dressed first?”

“Why?” Kara laughed at Lena’s puzzled frown.

“Because—” Lena gestured helplessly, rubbing one foot with the other and casting her eyes down so adorably, it made Kara want to reach out and touch her pink cheeks. “I— I don’t know? You just… _do_?”

“See,” Kara said, reaching for Lena’s hand instead and pulling her with her. “No reason. Saturday, remember.” Leading her into the hallway, she shot Lena a grin over her shoulder. A grin that—after catching Lena’s bewildered expression—grew so impossibly wide it almost hurt.

“Good morning, girls,” Eliza greeted them with a warm smile when they entered the kitchen. She was tending to her plants, but paused when they settled at the laid table—Kara pulling Lena’s chair out for her—and set down the small watering pot. “Alex and Maggie haven’t been down yet, but if you’re hungry we could get a head start on the pancakes?”

Her mouth watered with anticipation—Eliza’s pancakes were the best. Thick and fluffy, and just the right kind of sweet—but, before saying anything, Kara turned to Lena and, when Lena shook her head, found herself saying, “That’s okay. We’ll wait.” instead.

“Okay, if you’re sure.” Eliza caught her eye and the corner of her mouth twitched, but she didn’t laugh. She turned to look at the clock. “We’ll give them another 30 minutes then, what do you think?”

They both nodded.

“Coffee is ready in ten—” Eliza turned to press a button on the coffee machine and it spluttered to life with a merry beep and loud gurgling noises that had Lena look at it like it was a wild thing at the zoo—”but, if you prefer a nice strong cup of tea in the mornings, like myself—” she picked up her own mug from the kitchen island and took a sip, her attention on Lena. “Our humble little selection is in the box in front of you.” She turned on the kettle, then moved to get the orange juice from the fridge and carried it over to the table, setting the pitcher down on a coaster in front of Kara. “We also have OJ. It’s fresh.”

She beamed at Lena, who blushed and hastily reached for the wooden tea bag organizer. “Tea is perfect, thank you.”

“I knew you were a smart one,” Eliza said, glancing at Kara, who—with all her attention riveted on Lena—nearly knocked over the chocolate milk as she reached for it. “Unlike this one and her sister. Hopeless cases, both of them.”

Kara watched Lena flip through tea bags with trembling fingers, the color in her cheeks deepening with every second longer that Eliza was giving her her undivided attention.

Biting her lip, Lena fished out a bag and, noticing two pairs of curious Danvers eyes on her, shyly held it out on her palm for inspection.

“Good choice,” Eliza commented. “That’s a very nice blend. Hard to come by on this side of the pond, but, thankfully, I know a guy who makes sure we’re always in good supply.” She chatted happily, completely oblivious to Lena’s worried frown as she turned to get the kettle and topped off her own drink, before filling Lena’s designated mug for her.

“Thank you,” Lena said, fumbling with the wrapper.

“You’re welcome, love,” Eliza said, setting her mug down and reaching for her pair of lab goggles on the counter. “If you need anything, just let us know.”

With a pointed look at Kara, reminding her of her responsibilities as co-hostess, she left them to enjoy their drinks, while she got the little bottle of special fertilizer from the fridge and put her goggles on, attending to her plants’ needs and quietly humming along to the radio.

For someone who had made her and Alex run around the house and carry everything even slightly suspicious downstairs, to be kept far away from prying eyes, Eliza was being pretty blasé about her batch of Alstairan Root seedlings that currently lodged on the windowsill and on a metal pot cart in the corner.

Maybe she didn’t think anything of it, but her putting on goggles to water what appeared to be common, leafy green potted plants, certainly had caught Lena’s interest; and Kara briefly wondered, whether she should make up some strange allergy or something on the spot to account for the goggles or not, but, ultimately, decided to just keep her mouth shut and let Lena watch.

She had already let it slip that Eliza knew a thing or two about alien species. Surely, there was no harm in a couple Alstairan Roots in the kitchen.

Letting her gaze roam over the table—surveying the bread baskets filled with bread and buns and bagels, the various homemade jams and spreads, four different kinds of cereal (Kara was pleased to spot at least Frosted Flakes), granola, and porridge, a bowl of freshly cut fruit, some plain yoghurt, and a selection of cheeses and cream cheeses on a platter—Kara felt she could have inhaled everything with her next deep breath. If Maggie and Alex didn’t show up soon, she would starve. And they’d miss all her favorite cartoons.

Well, drastic times called for drastic measures. Under the pretense of returning the OJ to the fridge—after pouring some for Lena and herself—so it would stay nice and fresh for the others, Kara passed the radio and, pretending she really liked the song that was playing, she turned it up just enough for the tune to carry upstairs, but not enough to have Eliza turn it right back down. Then she bent down to rummage—and rummage noisily—for the largest frying pan and set it on the stove.

“Eggs,” she answered Eliza’s raised eyebrow and shrugged, giving her adoptive mother an innocent smile that had Eliza laugh and shake her head. “I thought,” she said, putting more feeling into it this time. “Some scrambled eggs would be nice. That’s all.”

“Mhm-mhm.” Eliza chuckled and returned her attention to her plant babies.

“You like scrambled eggs, Lena?” Kara asked loudly, nearly making Lena jump. Blinking rapidly, Lena tore her gaze away from the alien plants and looked at Kara with a guilty expression on her face.

“I’m sorry,” she said, hands flying to the end of her braid and plucking at it, fraying the edges. “I— I didn’t catch that?”

“I was wondering,” Kara said, unable to keep the fond smile out of her voice. “Whether you’d like some scrambled eggs, because I’m making ‘em.”

Lena nodded, her voice a little breathless when she said, “Yes, please.”

Just when Kara had added the tomatoes and her eggs were sizzling in the pan, there was movement on the stairs and Kara—internally—pumped the air in triumph.

“Morning.” The first one to come shuffling into the kitchen was Maggie, wearing her Barenaked Ladies shirt and boxers, her hair tousled from sleep and her eyes only half open.

“Good morning, pet,” Eliza said with a soft chuckle. “Coffee's fresh over there.”

Maggie was still asleep enough to let the endearment slide and just nodded her thanks, reaching for a massive mug from the cupboard and filling it to the brim, before inhaling deeply, her lips curling into a sluggish, satisfied smile.

Giving Kara a lazy wave, she shuffled over to the table, sat down opposite Lena and, hands curled around her coffee mug, sat in sleepy silence that none of them broke.

Just when Kara had finished the eggs and carried the bowl to the table, and Eliza had taken to her pancake battle station, Alex entered the kitchen in an oversized grey shirt and black sweatpants. “Morning, everyone,” she yawned, covering her mouth with the back of a hand. Assessing for a beat, she got the coffee pot and sank down on the chair to Maggie’s left, filling the cup next to the empty plate in front of her, then took two large gulps, grimacing as the hot liquid went down.

“Looks like we’re getting another hot and humid one, girls,” Eliza said, pointing her spatula out the window, before plating up a fresh batch of pancakes. “If we’re lucky, the heat breaks before Monday. If not, our annual bike ride should be a rather… arduous undertaking.” She set the pancake stack down in the center of the table and turned her attention to Alex. “Alex, have you checked the tire pressure, like I asked you to?”

Alex grunted in response and Eliza shook her head. “Is that a ‘yes’ grunt or a ‘no’ grunt, because I can’t tell.”

“Yeah,” Alex mumbled into her coffee. “Tires are fine.”

“Thank you.”

Alex rolled her eyes at Eliza’s turned back, and Kara had to bite back a laugh.

With everything going on, she had completely forgotten about the bike ride they went on every year, but now felt herself growing excited at the prospect. She always loved those rides. Maybe it was, because Midvale and its surroundings were breathtaking when the sun hit them just right; maybe she just enjoyed spending quality time with her family; or maybe, she only liked it so much, because she never broke a sweat and never felt the ride in her legs the next day.

When she had swallowed another healthy bite of pancake and turned to Lena to talk to her about it, she found a troubled look on Lena’s face that quickly morphed into one of her signature polite smiles— as soon as she had noticed Kara’s eyes on her.

“You’re going to love it!” Kara said. “We usually start at the house and follow the shoreline—through Lighthouse and Whytecliff to Horseshoe Bay. Marine Drive is mostly narrow roads, but very few cars, so it is _very_ safe.” She smiled at Lena who, underneath that smile, still looked a bit concerned. “We’ll ride high above the cove, on the Seaview trail—that’s an old railway. So cool. It winds above the harbor—the view over it is amazing! —but don’t worry, it’s only a two percent climb. Easy. Wait—” Kara, struck by a thought, put her fork down and got up from the table to rummage in one of the drawers for the old and trusted map. Eliza still kept it in the left top drawer, even when Kara hadn’t needed it since her first few months in Midvale. She had first used that map to find her way around town, but then quickly turned it into some kind of personal treasure map, marking all her favorite spots and hideouts with silver sparkle star stickers.

“See?” She moved her plate aside and spread the relevant part of the map out between them, tracing the route as she repeated the first half of it. “Lighthouse, Whytecliff, Horseshoe. That’s the Seaview trail.” She glanced up at Lena to make sure Lena was following. “Then we’ll make a right and cross Old Highway Bridge and follow the TGT—The Great Trail route—into town, cycle right through and come out the other end, following the coastline back to Ambleside Park.” She pointed at the name on the map. “If we’re really tired we’ll skip that part and head back sooner, but the swim at Ambleside is so worth the extra miles.”

“And it’s tradition!” Eliza chimed in, taking her place at the head of the table, now that all pancakes were done.

Lena gave her a nod and a tight smile, then looked down at her—half-finished—pancake, heat travelling up from her neck and painting her pale cheeks a blotchy pink.

“Don’t worry. We’ll go at a slow pace. I’m sure you can keep up with an old hag like myself,” Eliza said. “It’s Maggie’s first time joining us too.”

“Yep,” Maggie lifted her coffee in a mock-toasting gesture. “This one—” she pointed it at Alex— “wouldn’t shut up about it. So, here we are.” She took a sip, then grinned at Alex and they shared a quick kiss.

“It’ll be good fun,” Eliza said, buttering her bagel.

Lena nodded again, but Kara’s ears picked up on her erratic heartbeat, and she cocked her head in confusion. “We… we don’t have to go with, if you’d rather— I totally forgot to mention—”

“No. No, it’s fine.” Lena’s hand searched for Kara’s under the table and squeezed it in what, Kara was pretty sure, without her extraterrestrial strength, would have been quite a painful grip. Worrying her bottom lip and glancing first at Eliza, who was busy spreading jam on her bagel, and then at Alex and Maggie, who were bickering over the syrup bottle, she leaned closer to Kara and whispered: “One problem. Kara, I— I don’t know how to ride a bike.”

“What?” Kara gaped at Lena. It wasn’t like she judged her or anything—she herself had only learned at thirteen and hadn’t been a confident rider at all until her late teenage years—but this was unexpected. She hesitated for a moment, then whispered into Lena’s ear, enjoying how her pulse jumped in her neck as she did so. “I’ll teach you.”

Lena drew back, her poor lip still caught between her teeth, and looked up at Kara through her dark lashes.

“Okay,” she breathed, and Kara felt her own face heat up and something in her belly flutter, momentarily confused by the sensation, until Alex cleared her throat loudly.

“Hate to disrupt whatever that is,” she said, grinning at them, “but Maggie and I are calling dibs on the shower.”

“Whatever,” Kara said, sticking out her tongue at Alex. “We were going to watch Scooby-Doo, anyway.”

“You—” Alex snorted. “You what?!”

“Yeah.” Kara let go of Lena’s hand and crossed her arms. “Lena has never seen it. So.”

“That true, Luthor?” Maggie piped up. “You a… Scooby-virgin?” Leaning one elbow on the table and resting her chin in her palm, she watched Lena intently, smirking when Lena squirmed and spluttered an incoherent reply— followed by an exasperated “Kara!” that Kara felt as a soft slap on her biceps. “Oh, don’t!”

“Sorry,” Kara squealed, and both Maggie and Alex roared with laughter. “Ow.”

“Girls, play nice.” Eliza chuckled. “Well, if you want to catch the morning cartoons,” she went on, as if it was a completely normal occurrence in the Danvers house on Saturday mornings— which it had been for many years and still kind of was. “You’ll have to hurry and clear those plates.” She smiled at Kara’s expression and added, “Kara, we are a family and we’re going to finish breakfast like one.”

“ _El Mayarah_ ,” Kara mumbled around a big bite, rolling her eyes at the ceiling and, realizing what she had said only after the words had long left her mouth, clapped a hand over it, trying to pass it off as a coughing fit. Alex was glaring at her across the table.

“Anyway,” Alex said into the silence. “Maggie and I are heading into town later. You two kiddos wanna tag along?”

“Nah,” Kara rasped. “We were thinking about taking the bikes out for a test run.”

“That’s a good idea,” Eliza said. “Alex, when you’re in town, can you stop by Clementine's for some more tomatoes, mushrooms, peppers, and a pineapple?”

“Sure.” Alex buried her face in her hands, while Maggie sniggered into her coffee. 

They finished their hearty breakfast and, after discussing the weather and possible activities some more, Alex and Maggie went upstairs to shower and change, and then set out for the town on foot, while Kara and Lena caught the tail end of the last cartoon, before doing the same. They wouldn’t join Alex and Maggie on their walk, but get the bikes from the shed and head to the closest park to practice.

After dumping her own bike uncaringly on the grass, Kara surveyed the rest of them, ultimately deciding on one of Alex’s old ones as the most suitable for Lena, and proceeded to dig it out from the back of the shed, lifting bikes, garden tools, the wheel barrow, and the electric wood chipper out of the way as she went.

Humming to herself, she dusted the bike off with a rag, then made sure that both brakes worked, the tires were pumped up properly, and the saddle and headset weren’t loose or wobbly. Wanting to make absolutely sure it was one hundred percent safe to ride, she even checked for wear in the rims or cracks in the frame, satisfied when she found none. She then lifted the back wheel off the ground and spun the pedals round.

After she had oiled the chain— just a precaution—located helmets and knee and elbow pads, and filled her saddle bags with snacks and drinks, as well as fitting the small first aid kit from the kitchen, Kara stood and waited, giddy and buzzing with excitement. When she had first arrived on Earth, she had had to learn so many things that human children already knew about their planet and how it worked. She’d always been the one to be taught—by the Danvers, her teachers, her friends and colleagues. She’d never done any of the teaching, not really, until now.

Lena came out of the house wearing dark blue jeans and Nikes. She had changed her burgundy pyjama shirt for a silk dress shirt that was a rich, vibrant green. It made her eyes look even greener than usual. A black leather jacket that was just a touch big in the shoulders completed the look, and Kara suddenly found she couldn’t have agreed with Maggie’s previous statement more. It _was_ the leather jackets.

She grinned. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

Lena looked determined, and Kara could only guess at the competitive spirit hiding behind those bright eyes.

“Hmm,” Lena said, holding out one hand, open palm, as if checking for rain. “Little too warm for this, isn’t it?” Kara nearly let the handlebars slip from her grasp when Lena shrugged out of her jacket, revealing slender pale shoulders, and draped it over one of the patio chairs. “That’s better.”

Kara cleared her throat roughly.

“Stand next to this for a sec,” she said, gently nudging Lena to stand beside the bike and pushing the handlebars into her hands, so she could take a step back and check that the bike she had chosen was indeed a good fit. “Yeah, perfect.”

“Okay,” she said, picking up her own bike, and used the toe of her trainer to lift the kickstand. “We’ll push them to the park and get started there.”

“Alright.” Lena nodded, tightening her grip on the handlebars.

They waved goodbye to Eliza who was watching from the kitchen, and exited through the garden gate and onto the driveway, following Pilot House Road around the corner.

“How come you haven’t… you know, ridden a bike before?” Kara asked.

“Nobody taught me,” Lena said simply. “And it’s not like there was any need for it, I suppose.”

“Why not? It’s fun.”

“That doesn’t make for a good argument in the Luthor household.” Lena kept her eyes trained on the handlebars of her bike as she spoke. “Besides, my family owns more cars and employs more drivers than anyone knows what to do with,” she finished, still resolutely avoiding looking anywhere, but down at her bike. “I had a bike as a child,” she said after a moment. “Streamers, basket, and everything.”

Kara stopped, one hand resting on the saddle, and studied Lena’s face. “What… what happened to it?” She asked softly.

“I… don’t know,” Lena said, right hand moving to brush her hair out of her face— hair that wasn’t actually there, because she had pulled it all up into a high ponytail. “I don’t think I ever got to ride it.”

Kara made an understanding humming noise, her chest vibrating with the sound and her heart going out to Lena, who, in that moment, looked much younger than she was and much sadder than she was probably aware herself.

“You could get yourself a nice bike when we get back home,” she suggested. “Don’t know if any come with streamers, but there are a bunch with baskets— and they come in pretty neat colors too.”

Lena gave a little laugh. “Could you picture it: Lena Luthor, CEO, biking to Luthor Corp in the mornings.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Kara asked, as they began walking again.

Lena shook her head. “Mother would have a stroke,” she said, glancing at Kara. “All the more reason to do it, maybe,” she mumbled after a moment’s pause, and Kara laughed.

“Well, if you need any help bike shopping,” Kara let go one hand to point at her own chest. “Expert right here. I’ll help.”

“Thank you, Kara.” Lena smiled at her, discreetly brushing a hand over her cheek. “Who knows, depending on how this venture goes,” she nodded at their bikes. “I might just take you up on the offer.”

“Anytime.”

They crossed the street and found themselves at the park’s East entrance. Kara could smell the freshly mowed grass and the faint aroma of coffee and hot dogs, and quickly adjusted her glasses, actively tuning out people’s conversations and heartbeats. There weren’t that many people here yet—two or three families with small children sitting on picnic blankets, older kids riding their bikes or roller skates on the smooth paved pathways, and a few people walking their dogs—but she wanted to give Lena her full attention, so the less distractions, the better.

Making a left onto a deserted pathway and moving a little to the side, so people who wished to do so, could still pass them, they stopped and Kara quietly put down her kickstand, locked her bike, and opened the zipper on the saddle bag.

“Okay, safety first,” she said, getting the knee and elbow pads out and holding them out to Lena, who eyed them suspiciously before copying her—putting down the kickstand on her own bike—and then crossing her arms over her chest.

“There should be no need for those, Kara,” she said in her work voice. The one Kara had witnessed her use on the phone when she had picked Lena up at Luthor Corp. It almost worked, but not quite. More than anything, Kara wanted to bring Lena back to the house in one piece, not a single scratch on her, and, with the pads on, chances of that happening were much higher. Kara hadn’t needed any when she had first learned, of course not, but Lena was human and humans, Kara suddenly remembered with a nervous flutter in her belly, were fragile beings, easily bruised or broken. She swallowed hard.

“The pads go on or we go home,” she said, ready to stare Lena down if necessary, but Lena faltered almost immediately, huffing out a fiery “Fine! Give ‘em here then,” and put all the pads on with nimble fingers, securing them tightly. “Happy?”

“Very.” Kara grinned. “But, if at any point, you go and stomp your foot at me, missy, we’re still going home.”

“Oh, hardy har-har.”

“I mean it,” Kara said, only half-joking. She reached for the helmet dangling from Lena’s bike and opened the clasp. “Now, c’mere.”

Lena obediently took a step towards her and looked down, keeping very still as she let Kara adjust her ponytail, so the helmet would fit better.

“Accidents happen, Lena,” she said, sending a quick prayer to Rao that they didn’t happen today, on her watch. “A broken bone can usually be fixed, but head trauma—common in bicycle accidents, I’ll have you know—leaves a lasting impact and—” She clasped the helmet shut under Lena’s chin and, noting just how pink the tips of Lena’s ears were, bit down on her tongue as she adjusted the straps. “No accidents.”

“Understood,” Lena said. She had said it as if it were entirely up to her to make sure of it, when, in fact, it was Kara’s responsibility— and hers alone.

Kara stepped back, letting her eyes roam over Lena, who looked mostly adorable and only the tiniest bit ridiculous in her learners’ gear. “Now we’re ready.” She motioned for Lena to stand next to her bike and take hold of the handlebars— and Lena, ever eager, kicked the kickstand out of the way before mounting, grinning at Kara like a Cheshire cat as she sat on the saddle.

Kara grinned back, then frowned. Lena was keeping her balance, but her feet were barely touching the ground. “Wait. Back up one step,” Kara waved her off the bike again and Lena, after a moment’s hesitation, did as she was told, standing next to the bike with her brows knitted together as she watched Kara lower the saddle to its lowest point, before she gave it a satisfied pat. “There. Try again for me?”

Still frowning, Lena did; both her feet now touching the ground as she sat comfortably.

Kara nodded. “Better. Okay, when mounting or dismounting,” she said. “Always hold onto the brakes with both hands to keep the bike steady.”

“Okay.” Lena reached for the brake levers, giving them an experimental squeeze.

“Good. Put your weight over the back of the saddle—”

“Center of gravity, got it.” Lena adjusted her position, scooting back slightly and Kara felt something in her belly go tight, then loose again, warmth spreading all throughout her body.

“Uh, yeah. So, um, we’re going to start with a slow walk—”

Lena groaned.

“Lena!”

“Okay, okay.” She let go of the brakes to raise her hands and Kara stepped in to keep the bike steady.

“Hands on the brakes, Lena. Feet firmly on the ground.”

Lena pressed her lips together, batting her eyelashes sweetly, and Kara laughed.

“Now, have a go at walking along with the bike—let’s say over to that tree over there—” Kara pointed a little ahead on the path, making sure Lena had spotted the right tree too, before she went on— “and push on the ground with your feet. Squeeze the brakes gently when you want to stop.”

“Easy,” Lena said, and Kara had to jog a few steps to keep up. Lena Luthor would be the death of her. “Look where you are going, not down at your feet,” she called, shaking her head. “Sit up and look straight ahead, Lena!”

“That’s what I’m doing!” Lena called back, stopping the bike _precisely_ next to the agreed-upon tree.

Next they tackled a very gentle slope, Kara encouraging Lena to push down with her feet then lift them off the ground while she was moving forwards and picking up speed.

Reminding her to focus on the bench ahead instead of looking down at her feet—looking down made it much harder to balance—Kara held the back of the saddle to help, trying not to balance for Lena as they went.

Lena quickly gained confidence scooting the bike, taking longer before she put her feet down, and soon, Kara was only keeping her fingertips on the saddle. “Head up, Lena!” she laughed, shaking her head when Lena looked down and the bike wobbled. “Head up, back and tummy straight, hands relaxed and arms loose.”

“Oh, for… _heaven's_ sake,” Lena said, gripping the handlebars tighter—which didn’t help. “I heard you the first ten times.”

“Don’t you get smart with me, Lena Luthor!”

Lena pushed off with her feet—she was happy balancing unaided for a short distance now—then stopped the bike so abruptly, Kara almost walked into it. Lena shot her a death-glare over her shoulder that only made Kara laugh harder. She wanted to take Lena seriously, she really did, but, oh boy, the helmet and the cute pout on her very red face made that impossible.

“Patience you must have, my young Padawan.”

Lena was a quick learner, her balance getting better and better, but patience, especially with herself, Kara had discovered, wasn’t one of Lena’s strong suits. “You’re doing a good job, Lena. Let’s add pedals, shall we?” Kara suggested in the way of a peace offering, and Lena’s pout wavered, clearly pleased with being allowed some progression.

“Whatever you say, Master Yoda.”

“Okey-dokey!” Kara grinned. “Okay, Lena. Left foot firmly on the ground, try and hook your right one under the pedal and bring it up to two o’clock.” Lena did. “Good. Now, when you’re ready, release the brakes and push down the right pedal while looking straight ahead. After a count of one-two, try and bring your left foot onto the pedal without looking down. Got it?”

“Yeah.” Lena nodded, hands squeezing and releasing the brakes nervously. “Okay. Right, one-two, — shoot!”

Lena had tried to lift both feet off the ground before the bike was moving, but, before she could fall, Kara had a firm grip on the saddle and the handlebar, keeping her steady. “Good. Try again. You can also bring up the left pedal first. Whichever feels more natural.”

Worrying her bottom lip, Lena nodded, and Kara let go of the handlebar briefly to poke her in the ribs to get her to release all that tension.

“Hey!” Lena protested. “I’m… I’m _balancing_ here!”

“My bad,” Kara giggled. “Go on.”

Lena blew out a breath. “Here goes nothing,” she mumbled, bringing up the left pedal. She pushed down on it, this time waiting for the initial momentum before pulling up her other foot; and, even though Kara kept hold of the saddle and the handlebar while Lena got the hang of it, they were moving.

“Awesome! Keep going!” Kara praised. “That’s it, slow and steady—not too slow! You’re gonna wobble.” Lena turned the pedals a bit faster. “Yeah, that’s it! Good job! Eyes up and ahead, Lena!”

Lena growled a response that Kara didn’t catch, but she grinned anyway.

“Here we go,” Kara whooped. “Here we go!”

They made it to the end of the path, Lena hitting the brakes where it curved to the left and, planting her feet on the ground, held the bike steady.

“You did it!” Kara let go and moved in front of the bike, holding up her hand for a high-five, which Lena, shifting her weight to keep her balance, gave. Her legs were trembling slightly and she was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling rather rapidly; a bold red color glowing in her cheeks.

“Wanna go again?” Kara asked, resuming her position, hands hovering in the vicinity of the saddle and the handlebar.

“Yes.” Lena scooted around the corner then brought up the right pedal and—Kara had barely prepared herself—began pedaling once more, starting out a little wobbly, but keeping her balance—with only minimal assistance from Kara, who had to remind herself to try and not let Lena lean on her too much.

They practiced this several times: Stopping, starting, pedaling and picking up speed. And Lena, with Kara’s help, even managed a couple turns.

“You can let go, you know,” Lena called back, pedaling ahead happily.

Jogging next to the bike, Kara smirked. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“Good. ‘Cause I already have.”

Predictably, that made Lena wobble— for the moment of shock it took her to get her bearings again, and Kara’s hand touched down on the saddle—just in case—giving her a little push, so she wouldn’t lose too much momentum.

“Kara!” Lena squawked. “You can’t just—! Oh my God!”

Kara laughed. “You’re fine, Lena! Pedal, go straight, slow down a little; see, you can do it!”

Of course, she still kept nearby, but, really, Lena was doing a darn good job on her own. It had taken Kara way longer to learn. But then again, she hadn’t been a yoga-whiz and had battled vertigo and pesky motion-sickness at the time. Jeremiah truly had had the patience of a saint, for it had taken Kara weeks to finally allow him to let go of the bike and even longer for her to be okay with him just sitting on a bench, reading his newspaper, while she biked growing circles around him.

“Keep your brakes covered all the time,” Kara instructed, hand shooting out as they took a turn— in case Lena wobbled, which she did not. “Look ahead!”

“Oh, you! You know what— ?!” Lena huffed, pedaling faster and making Kara laugh as she slowed down her steps. She’d give her this. At least to the next turn. “Ha!”

“Watch where you are going, speedster!” Kara couldn’t help herself. Chest swelling with pride, she looked after Lena. As she was pedaling along without Kara holding on to her, Lena gained confidence, testing out her balance, the brakes, and her ability to steer—going around a fallen leaf or a twig on the ground.

All of a sudden, Kara saw a little black dog speed towards Lena, its leash trailing behind it and a disgruntled human hot on its heels, and it took all Kara had not to break her promise and use her powers to come to the rescue at super-speed. Going as fast as she dared, she sprinted after Lena. “Lena, watch out! Dog!”

Lena started to swerve from side to side and almost ran over the dog, but her better judgement made her hit the brakes hard and half jump, half fall off her bike, landing in the soft grass.

“Oh my God, Lena!” Panting, Kara crouched down next to her, hands flying to the scratch on her leg, but stopping short of actually touching the angry red marks on her skin. “Are you okay? I shouldn’t have—! I’m so sorry, Lena! I never should have—”

“I’m fine, Kara,” Lena said, and Kara was surprised to find she was laughing. “I just fell. Though, next time, I’d like to do it with a little more dignity. That was abysmal.” She had, apparently, made friends with the little shaggy menace that had prompted her fall and was scratching the dog behind its ears. “Yes, that was abysmal, wasn’t it?” She cooed, looking down at the dog. “One out of ten, at most. What do you think?”

“I’m so sorry! Dennis! Come here!” The dog’s owner had finally reached them and picked up the leash, and Kara turned her head to let them have a piece of her mind, deflating on the spot, however, when she realized it was just a girl. Ten, maybe twelve. Definitely no older than thirteen.

“You need to be more careful,” Kara said. “Someone could have gotten seriously hurt.”

“I, uh, I’m really sorry,” the girl said, looking down and shuffling her feet. “He just—ran off,” she mumbled.

“He probably got the scent of something,” Lena said, her voice much warmer than Kara’s. “It happens.”

“Are you okay?” The girl asked shyly, trying to pull her dog towards her. The little beast just yelped and strained harder against its collar to get more ear-scratches from Lena, and, not wanting to strangle it, the girl’s arms dropped.

“Yes, no harm done.”

They smiled at each other, and Kara carefully reached for the dog, gently lifting him off Lena and placing him in the girl’s arms. “Here. Just be more careful next time,” she said, trying to soften the edge in her voice and calm her frazzled nerves.

“Thank you. I will.” The girl turned to leave, Dennis the Menace squirming in her arms and yapping loudly.

“Just a kid, Kara.” Lena’s hand was on Kara’s arm, and Kara let out a breath.

“I know,” she mumbled. “But, Lena, you could have gotten hurt! Badly!”

Lena sat up a little more and cupped Kara’s cheek. Her palm felt rough and cool against Kara’s skin; the earthy smell of dirt and grass hitting her nose. Earth, grass, dog, and the sweet scent that she had come to associate with no one but Lena.

“I didn’t,” Lena said. “How could I, with all of this?” She raised one eyebrow, nodding at the pads, and Kara was mighty glad she had stood her ground on that one and made Lena wear them. “Thank you, by the way.” The soft peck on her other cheek had Kara’s thoughts go poof and her anxious anger melt into thin air as she blinked, dumbfounded, at Lena.

“Uhh—” Kara spluttered. “Yeah. So.”

Lena gave a small laugh, a puff of warm air hitting Kara’s lips and making them tingle. Licking them didn’t help and neither did Lena’s hand, still resting against Kara’s cheek.

Lena bit her lip.

The seconds didn’t pass at all as they ticked by.

“Well,” Lena said slowly, leaning forward, but when Kara—hooked and giving into the pull—did the same, they bumped heads—or rather: Kara bumped her forehead against the goofy bike helmet and burst out laughing at the absurdity of it.

They laughed the awkward tension away and, after making sure Lena really wasn’t hurt, Kara carefully pulled her to her feet.

Despite Kara’s protests, Lena wanted to get back into the saddle. She claimed that riding a bike was no different than riding a horse in that regard, and Kara didn’t agree, but gave in anyway, checking the bike carefully first to make sure it was still good to go and safe for Lena to ride.

They went for the big loop, Kara letting Lena balance the bike on her own and ride unaided, but sticking to her like a second shadow the whole time, all her senses on high alert and poised to spot and ward off possible dangers— no matter how small or hairy.

Lena wanted to keep going until her legs trembled so bad she couldn’t; and Kara caught her giving a wince when she finally dismounted. Yeah, she would feel this in the morning.

They walked back to the East gate slowly, Kara pushing Lena’s bike until she had to push her own.

“I should probably have warned you—” Kara began, handing Lena a water bottle, but Lena cut her off with a cluck of her tongue and a smirk.

“I knew what I was getting myself into, Kara,” she said, twisting the cap off and taking a big gulp. “Better get it out of the way now.”

Kara frowned. “Get what out of the way?”

“The burn I’m feeling now and the pain that’s going to kiss me awake tomorrow,” Lena quipped, but Kara wasn’t sure she was joking all the way and something about that didn’t sit right with her.

“Maybe, but we’re taking it slow tomorrow.”

Lena pouted. “I need to learn, though, Kara. I—”

“Your body needs to rest,” Kara said. “Besides, you already learned a whole lot today.”

“Learned how to get on a bike, pedal, and fall off,” Lena laughed. “Not half bad for my first lesson, you reckon?”

“Listen,” Kara started, then paused. She wet her lips. The sun was already low in the sky as they turned into Pilot House Road and Kara had to shield her eyes against the brightness with one hand to better see Lena’s face. “It’s the weekend, Lena, not boot camp. The weekend is supposed to be fun.”

“Oh, I’m having fun.”

Kara sighed. “We can go back out tomorrow, if you insist, but I’m setting a time limit. Two hours, tops.”

Lena cocked her head, her eyes sparkling in the warm light. “Deal.”


	15. The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time for another [ playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4A8Tia6WbDONb1ETX60qkA?si=aWAnX_oZTsyyOrr1h7-8dw), esp. [ Familiar Patterns](https://open.spotify.com/track/0Y69GOb9iqf4ihcYD2XbSJ?si=ibGi1sGzRg-YpmFOqInDsg), [ Quiet Lullaby](https://open.spotify.com/track/2NWUlFLrEXWI0OkjWXSMpm?si=ZfOqdpUjT8e39NZowj8jEA), and [ Curiosity ](https://open.spotify.com/track/3WEdWvAScE1EcBfErseQnC?si=9Rsev89JSiGxGSDst8XvAA).

Saturday evening was homemade pizza and a mess in the kitchen. It was warmth and laughter, and Eliza snapping pictures when they weren’t looking (and some when they were). It was sticky dough and the smell of oregano mingling with Lena’s clean, flowery scent as Lena leaned back against her. It was her wrapping her arms around Lena from behind, covering Lena’s hands with her own. It was them kneading and giggling, their breath hitching in unison and their faces flushing when Alex teased them about it.

It was animated conversation and delicious food; fading light and a balmy breeze kissing relaxed faces and bare arms; and Kara felt both heavy and light with happiness. She felt comfortable. With Lena. With Lena around her family. And, if she squinted really hard and pushed that nagging feeling in her stomach to the back of her mind, she could almost pretend that things would stay like this forever. 

Watching Lena laugh at one of Maggie’s jokes, Kara’s heart sank. She had to tell her; tell her everything. She knew that. Stupid and selfish and scared, she just didn’t know how. She didn’t want things to change. And she wasn’t stupid enough to assume that they wouldn’t.

She just wanted to be Kara—just Kara—for a little while longer. Not Kara the reporter, who had taken on an assignment without thinking about the consequences. Not Kara, the last daughter of the Great House of El, an alien with superpowers and enough baggage to sink a battle fleet. She just wanted _this_ and she wanted Lena— and, once she opened her mouth, all the carefree happiness would go away. They would crack and break and part ways; and Kara would understand—of course, she would—but part of her wasn’t ready to lose Lena—lose someone else she cared about—even when, this time around, it would be nothing but her own dang fault.

When they left the table and trudged upstairs to get ready for bed, Lena’s happy chatter slowly died down to a sleepy murmur. They said goodnight to Alex and Maggie and, after Kara had closed the door, Lena sank down on her bed with a yawn.

She would let her sleep, Kara thought, opening the window before she shimmied under the covers. She would let Lena sleep and talk to her in the morning.

“Good night,” she said, reaching for the bedside lamp, turning it off and leaving the room in darkness. “Sleep tight.”

“Good night, Kara.”

Kara rolled over. Staring at the wall with her eyes unfocused, she reached out a hand, tracing the small tears in the wallpaper with her fingers, following the familiar pattern to the glow-in-the-dark stars she had glued to the wall many years ago. Their glow was dimmed tonight and, while Kara knew it was because they had left the blinds closed to keep the heat out, part of her wondered if they simply reflected her dimmed spirits.

Testament to her exhaustion, it didn’t take long for Lena to drift off to sleep, leaving Kara alone with her thoughts. Lying on her back and looking up at the ceiling, Kara listened to Lena breathe—rhythmic, even breaths—until her heart ached and she had to push her covers off, before they would suffocate her.

Padding over to the window in the dark, she curled up on the window seat, tucking her feet under her body to keep them warm. Lena’s breaths deepened and steadied with deep sleep, and Kara was awake, mind buzzing and stinging.

The night was starless; the air heavy with unbroken heat and rain that hadn’t yet fallen, and Kara’s eyes turned skyward, watching it become darker and lower with every second, feeling the unbearable humidity pressing down and squeezing the air from her lungs. It was thick, and it was relentless.

She sighed.

Turning her head, her eyes rested on Lena’s sleeping form— and that horrible guilty feeling in her chest tightened its grip on her heart. She was a coward, and a liar, and a horrible, horrible person who deserved everything that would be coming to her in the morning.

The scent of rain was strong and heady. A stillness fell over the moment and, in the silence, came a low crackle of thunder, rolling across rooftops and entering Kara’s childhood bedroom like a warning; a harbinger of the storm to come. For a moment everything stopped. Then the wind picked up: spitting, screaming, crying; howling like a wolf into the night.

It blew through the room with a powerful passion, tearing at the pictures and posters on the wall and yanking on the fabric of Kara’s shirt like it was grabbing her by the collar to yell in her face.

Before Kara could do anything but stare back blankly, a streak of blazing light split the sky, and the rain began.

Slow to start, with tiny raindrops pattering, then drumming, it soon fell as if from buckets, pouring down on her small world as if determined to drown it. Like bullets to the roof, it pounded on the shingles, and Kara’s tears came without warning, joining the chaotic drum beat. Thankfully, hers were silent tears as they rolled down her cheeks, and Kara just let them fall as the night sky blurred even more.

Lightning cracked again and, within seconds, thunder growled and reverberated overhead. The storm was close— loud and dark, and drawing attention to itself— drowning out Kara’s soft sniffles.

Over the black water, a jagged bolt of white hot lightning split the night in two. Thunder followed hot on its heels again, its boom rolling across town; and, whilst the noise didn’t exactly bother Kara—not anymore—her ears picked up on another worrying sound. A sound that had her spin around and stand, hastily closing the window to keep the storm out.

Lena was awake, her heart banging away like it was taking a sledgehammer to her chest.

“Lena?” Wiping the tears away from her cheeks, Kara took a few steps into the room until she was standing between their beds. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” came the weak reply. “I… I just—” 

Another flash of lightning illuminated the room in blinding light. Lena let out a frightened squeak and buried her face into her pillow. Even her breaths trembled.

Kara remembered that feeling. Startled awake by many storms just like this one, cold and paralyzed with fear, she had padded the short distance between these two beds many times— to crawl into bed with Alex, only feeling safe with her sister’s warm arms wrapped around her.

But she couldn’t do that, could she? For one thing, Alex’s bed was way too small to fit them both—it had barely fit two teenage girls years ago—and, for another, she wasn’t even sure Lena would be okay with sharing a bed in the first place.

“Um...” Kara hesitated. Lena was scared. She had to do something. Looking around the dark room, her eyes fell on her sweet plush companion and she picked it up, cradling the little turtle in her arms as she crouched down next to Lena. “Cassiopeia might help?”

Sitting up, the blanket sliding off her shoulder, Lena blinked at her, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. “Cassiopeia?”

Kara held out the turtle, all but forcing it on Lena when she didn’t take it immediately, and Lena gave a wet chuckle.

“Cassiopeia, hmm?” She said, carefully stroking the small head. “Hello, Cassiopeia. Pleased to meet you. And what an _unrivaled beauty_ you are.”

Kara grinned.

Another ominous boom outside had Lena wince and her eyes—wet and wide, illuminated by lightning—darted to the window, before she bit her lip.

“Sorry,” she breathed. Kara couldn’t see well enough to tell—now that the room was in near total darkness again—but she was sure, if she could have, she would have found Lena blushing— and the thought made her heart stutter a little.

“Wait,” she said. “I have an idea.”

Without waiting for a reply or taking a moment to think on the advisability of her actions, Kara went back to her own bed, crawled over it and, crouching in the small space between her bed and the wall, began to push. Pushing gently, so the frame wouldn’t crack, she moved the bed all the way across, until it sat right next to Lena’s.

“Better,” she announced, grinning as she clambered back onto her side of the make-shift double bed, and pulled her covers up to her middle. Rolling onto her side to face Lena, they looked at each other. “Now, where were we?”

Lena’s giggle was muffled by her pillow, but Kara felt the soft vibrations anyway. “You—you were introducing me to your little friend here,” Lena said, one hand holding Cassiopeia while the other snuck across state lines in pursuit. “I am never going to live this down, am I?”

Kara met her halfway, taking Lena’s hand in hers and running her thumb over her knuckles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s not really appropriate for a grown woman to have an irrational fear of thunderstorms, Kara. Or to need… to seek company—” Lena broke off and heaved a sigh. “I’m very glad you… two are keeping me company. Thank you.” She smiled a wobbly smile. “Cassiopeia is a good name. Much better than Miss Pizzly.”

“It’s the perfect name for her,” Kara said. “Look!” She reached for Cassiopeia with her free hand, tapping the shell twice, and Lena let out a soft gasp as the little shell began to glow, projecting an entire galaxy onto the ceiling and the walls.

“Oh, …”

Kara watched the calming blue lights reflect in her eyes. Lena looked up at the artificial stars with such joyous wonder, it made Kara’s heart melt. “Wait—” Lena looked at her, at the blue stars, then back at her again, one eyebrow on the rise. “These… these are _accurate_?!”

“Uh-huh.” Kara smiled, squeezing their linked hands.

“Wow.” Lena gazed up at the ceiling. “Cassiopeia, Cepheus, Draco, Ursa Major and Ursa Minor,” she listed, pointing out star patterns that abstractly resembled their namesakes. “Is this—? Yes. Bootes, Cancer, Crater, Hydra, Leo, and Virgo. But… But they are only visible from the Northern Hemisphere during spring?” Frowning, she looked down at Cassiopeia, then turned to Kara. “How does it know, it’s spring?”

“Alex’s dad built her for me,” Kara said, growing a little misty-eyed at the memory. “He made sure Cassie could tell time. She knows what date it is and which season we are in.”

“Brilliant. Absolutely beautiful.” Lena scooted closer to her until the sides of their bodies touched. “And if you took her to… let’s say, Australia?” she whispered, resting her head on Kara’s shoulder and playing with their linked hands, and Kara tried to stay still so that she wouldn’t ever let go. 

“She’d show me Andromeda, Aquarius, Capricornus, Pegasus, and Pisces,” Kara said.

“Fascinating.” Lena breathed the word into the crook of Kara’s neck, and Kara felt herself tingle all over. In a good way. Lena was pressed against her—she had let go of Kara’s hand, but they were still touching—and Kara didn’t know why it felt so good, but she knew she didn’t want it to ever stop.

Outside, the rain hissed and spat, pounding on the roof and windows as if demanding entrance, but inside their little universe, it was so beautifully peaceful that even the rain and the clouds, and the sound of it all, couldn't reach them any longer.

Had it been up to Kara, she could have spent an entirety like this. Warm and cosy and happy, stargazing with Lena. Kara smiled up at the stars, closed her eyes, and wished for the feeling to last. Behind her closed eyelids, she saw the future unfolding; all fluffy clouds and sunshine and forever.

“Lena?”

“Hmm-mhm?”

Kara tore her gaze away from the ceiling. “Who’s Miss Pizzly?”

“A teddy bear.” Her voice had become quieter and Lena didn’t elaborate, but Kara felt her body tense, and she drew back slightly to look at her face.

“No! Don’t look so sad.” She brushed a strand of dark hair away from Lena’s cheek and poked Lena’s nose gently; and, before she knew what was happening or what her hands were doing, she was pulling Lena close, her arms holding her so tight that she couldn’t even hug Kara back.

Lena sniffed and buried her face in Kara’s chest. Kara felt her breath rattle on the next exhale.

“Is this better?” Kara asked, her hands trailing down Lena’s back and drawing elaborate patterns, drawing constellations. She looked down and saw that Lena was half asleep, her eyes opening just a crack at her question. She barely nodded, and her eyes fluttered closed. 

“Let’s sleep,” Lena whispered into Kara’s chest, and Kara nodded, feeling Lena turn over in her arms.

“Okay.”

Kara found Lena still closer to her than she had expected. Her mind half set on giving her space to sleep, she waited a moment to see if Lena would move away, but she didn’t. Holding her breath, Kara wrapped her arms gently around Lena’s waist, feeling her heart hammer in her chest as Lena relaxed into her. Kara’s head nestled in the curve behind Lena’s neck; her knees pulling up to fill the space behind Lena’s.

“Don’t ever…,” Lena mumbled. “Don’t disappear. Okay?”

Her hair was soft against Kara’s face, her body warm and heavy in her arms.

“Promise me?”

Kara opened her mouth helplessly, the ugly truth lodged in her chest and making it hard to breathe.

“I promise.”

Swallowing against the sudden lump in her throat, Kara started to turn, but Lena reached back for her, scooting her body yet closer into Kara’s.

Kara closed her eyes and breathed her in. With each breath, she thought about all the moments they had shared and all the moments she still wanted to share with Lena. She listened to the rain. She felt the warmth of the room and of Lena’s body against hers.

She told herself, she would only stay here for a couple of minutes. Only until Lena was asleep completely. Until the memory was strong enough to last her for the months to come. The months when Lena would no longer be in her life.

She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready to let go.

Morning would come too soon.

Kara woke an indeterminate time later; woke to the feeling of everything in her body buzzing. Her scalp and her belly and her fingers and her heart.

She opened her eyes a fraction then jammed them closed again, feeling too groggy and entirely too lazy to move, but something inside of her urging her to do so regardless. Slowly coming back into her body, she froze. There was a hand, a hand on her boob that wasn’t her own. And another, wrapped securely around her middle. Feeling her heart-rate climb, Kara took a deep breath, and—when she did—the hands shifted ever so slightly with her, something brushing across sensitive territory and sending a fresh jolt of heat through her body as it stiffened in response. Hips snuggled into her backside and soft boobs pressed harder against her back.

The arm around her middle moved, hand sliding and fingers fanning out across her abdomen possessively, and Kara’s breathing hitched. Heat pooling in her belly, she rolled over to put a stop to whatever was going on and making her brain short-circuit.

Face to face with Lena, however, she had to conclude that what was going on was precisely nothing, because Lena was fast asleep, clinging to her like a koala, her hair splayed over the pillow.

It took her a couple of minutes to recover her fluttering heart.

Biting her lower lip on a smile, Kara ran her hand along the side of Lena’s face. Gentle, ever so gentle, so as not to wake her. She didn’t stir when Kara nuzzled her neck, close enough again that she could smell lotion and the clean scent of Lena’s shampoo. Dangerously close to something; something without a clear beginning or end.

She wanted to kiss her.

Oh, she really wanted to kiss her.

Instead, Kara drew back and, with her heart pounding in her ears, carefully untangled herself from Lena’s grip. She slipped out from under Lena’s arm and off the bed. Listening to Lena’s steady heartbeat for a moment, she covered her with her blanket and bent down like a sappy idiot, brushing her nose over Lena’s hair. She inhaled that clean, flowery scent again, took one last look at Lena’s face—softened by sleep—and practically fled the bedroom.

Her Legs wobbly and her mind fretting, Kara went down to the kitchen for water. She filled the glass and gulped it down, then headed back upstairs toward the bathroom.

The door to Eliza’s study was ajar, soft light shining through the narrow space. Kara walked softly past it, but then heard something rustle and turned back. Eliza was at her desk, her magnifying lamp burning, her pen moving furiously across the paper. She finished a page and cast it aside, then started a new one.

Reading glasses pushed up to rest atop her head, she was hunched forward and her mind was galaxies away, but Kara knew she could have called her name, whispered it into the night even, and Eliza would have looked up at once, closed her notepad and set her pen down, and invited her in with a warm smile and open arms.

Kara turned toward the bathroom, but Eliza’s voice called her back. “Did you need something, sweetheart?”

That was all it took.

Kara flew into her arms, knocking the wind out of Eliza by accident.

“Oof, sweetheart.” Eliza rubbed her back. “What— what happened? Did the storm spook you? It woke me up too.”

It wasn’t the storm that had spooked her. Kara made a vague gesture.

“Come with me,” Eliza said. She took Kara by the hand, and they made hot chocolate in the semi-dark kitchen; and they didn’t talk— not until they were sitting out on the porch, side by side on the bench, their legs touching under the blanket.

The blanket— blue (background) and gold (stars) and soft between Kara’s fingers—was familiar and so was this, and Kara just sat and let the familiarity wash over her, hoping it would calm her down; hoping it would… unscrew whatever was wrong with her.

“None of it is real,” she said after a long moment, not looking at Eliza.

“None of what is real, sweetheart?”

“ _Her_ ,” Kara said. “Me!”

“I don’t understand.”

It was just after four a.m., and her body was heavy and sinking, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that her world was ending all over again.

“Kara,” Eliza said. “Please talk to me.”

She had gone silent without realizing it.

“There’s so much I need to tell her,” she whispered, “but I don’t know how.”

Eliza scooted closer, taking her hands in hers to rub them.

“I know,” she said. “I know. But you’re also trying to tell me something. And I want to hear it.”

Kara wanted to tell her, tell her whatever it was she was meant to tell her, but the words were stuck and getting sucked back in by that massive black hole that had opened in her chest.

“Seeing Alex and Maggie makes me think that I am never gonna have what they have!”

It wasn’t what she had expected to say; it just came out. Before Eliza could say anything back, the words came—more of them; many more—and they wouldn’t stop. “Someone who knows _everything_ about me.” She inhaled, filling her lungs with crisp early-morning air. “My perfect partner at a game night.” 

Eliza had forgotten to rub her hands; she was just squeezing them.

“Growing up on Earth, I never felt… normal. And I always thought that, if only I started to use my powers, my life would make sense. I was _sent_ to Earth to protect Kal-El, right?” She looked at Eliza. “But I'm realizing that… it wouldn’t make me feel more normal. And it never will. Because my normal life ended, the second my parents put me on that ship.” She felt her voice tremble, threatening to give out from under the weight of her words, but she pushed on. “And that makes me so… _mad_.”

“That’s… that’s just grief, love.” Eliza said. “It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.”

She wasn’t grieving. She was angry. Angry at her parents. Angry at herself for being dumb enough to break her own heart. Angry at Eliza, and Alex, and Jeremiah, and Clark for forcing her to live a lie— even when it was a lie that was supposed to protect people. But who was it protecting— and who did it hurt?

“I… I just can’t do it anymore! I want—! I need—! Ugh!” She started to sob, pushing Eliza’s soothing hands away. “I’m— I’m going to lose her, Eliza!”

“You need to tell her the truth,” Eliza said. It wasn’t a question. “Your truth.”

Kara felt her lip tremble, her hands, then her body followed suit.

“Hey,” Eliza said. “Sweetie, look at me.”

Kara was looking at the blue horizon, at the water, at the seams of her pyjama pants. She was looking at the hole in her sock, at the pattern in the floorboards. She was looking at her shaking hands that she had snatched back from Eliza’s, and didn't know what to do with, twisting them in her lap. She was sure she was losing her mind.

“Look at me,” Eliza said, but she couldn’t. “Kara. Look at me,” she said again.

Kara took a breath and finally looked up. The warmth in Eliza’s eyes was almost enough to send her over the edge.

“Kara,” she said. “I know that your— that Jeremiah and I asked you to become Kara Danvers and leave Kara Zor-El behind. And, I know it was a lot to ask of you.” She sighed. “I still believe it was the right thing to do at the time, but you’re a grown woman now, Kara, and—”

“I can’t tell her.” 

“You know how we made it through so many years of marriage?” Eliza asked, playing with the ring on her finger. Even after Jeremiah’s death, she had never taken that ring off. Kara wondered how she could live with a constant reminder like that every day and not go insane.

Kara shook her head.

“It’s three things that make a relationship, any relationship, work: compromise, honesty, and trust.” Eliza looked at her, a soft smile on her face. “You can’t have trust without honesty. And you can’t compromise, if you’re not living your truth.”

“She’s going to hate me,” Kara breathed, crossing her ankles and swinging her legs. “ _I_ hate me.”

“Now.” Left hand on her knee, Eliza’s right hand was under her chin, tilting it up. Her eyes were probably red-rimmed and fresh tears were beginning to blur her vision, but Kara held her gaze bravely. “That’s no way to talk about yourself, Kara. That’s no way to talk _to_ yourself.” She pressed a kiss to Kara’s temple. “Yes, she might get mad, we don’t know that, but Lena likes you. You might want to give her a chance to surprise you.”

Kara sniffled. “She… she _likes_ me?”

Eliza chuckled softly.

Kara wiped her palms on her pants and dashed the tears from her eyes with her shirtsleeve. “It’s… hard,” she mumbled.

“No one said love was easy, sweetheart.” Eliza pulled her into a hug, running her fingers through Kara’s hair. “That’s what makes it… special.”

That was a big word. Love. Frighteningly big.

“I don't know anything… about romantic love,” Kara muttered. She should have felt a weight lifted now that she had told Eliza everything, but she didn’t. Not yet. Maybe in the morning things would settle. Or maybe they would blow up in her face. 

“You know more than you think.”

Everything was quiet and Kara felt bone-tired. She yawned.

“Some more sleep,” Eliza said, and it wasn’t a suggestion.

With the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders, Kara walked back to the hallway and up the stairs, nearly stumbling over her own two feet in the dark, and climbed back into bed.

Like a sunflower to the sun, Lena immediately turned to her, eyes closed and still fast asleep, her arm covering her eyes briefly as she turned over. Lena didn’t deserve this, but Kara couldn’t bring herself to wrap her arms around her again.

Not now. Maybe not ever again.

The morning stretched on, and Kara fell in and out of fitful sleep; and, at some point, Lena must have slipped out of bed and out of the room, because, when Kara opened her eyes again, the sun was warm on her face and the bed next to hers was empty.


	16. The Confession

“Lena?” Kara whispered, her hand swatting around to find her, even though she could see she wasn’t there.

Lena wasn’t there.

Kara was seized with panic that she had missed her chance altogether, that Lena was already gone and she hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye.

Quite unbidden, an image of Lena flashed through her mind. Lena packing her bags and slamming the big blue door shut on her way out; Lena climbing into one of her big black cars without so much as another glance to spare; Lena driving off, never to return.

She didn’t know what was happening. She was trying to understand. She was crying, trying not to cry.

No.

This was her mind playing tricks on her. She was being hysterical. Lena was probably in the shower or brushing her teeth. People did that in the mornings.

Kara took a deep breath, feeling for her limbs tangled in the sheets, accounting for legs and arms, fingers and toes, feeling and counting and breathing— just like Eliza had once taught her, many, many years ago.

Her alarm clock ticked. She breathed as slowly and deeply as she could. She felt her heart slow down.

Kara ran a hand over her eyes, shaking her head, and slipped her glasses on. She was being silly. Swinging her legs out of bed, she got up, padded over to her drawer and, without paying much attention to the clothes or her own hands, she put on a bra and changed into a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt. She brushed her hair. For some reason, she didn’t want to face Lena in her sushi pyjamas with her hair sticking out on the back.

When she reached the kitchen, Kara froze.

“Gentle now, love,” Eliza said. “Yes, just like that.”

Kara stood in the door, her face and heart relaxing at the sight of Lena in her kitchen. Lena in her ridiculously expensive and ridiculously soft pyjamas, her hair pulled back away from her face and held in place by—Kara bit her lip not to laugh—a few colorful bag clips, wearing a pair of clear safety goggles and holding pruning shears to an Alstairan Root.

“So,” she said, carefully clipping a leaf and handing it to Eliza. They were both wearing gloves. “The chloroplasts still very much function as the site of photosynthesis and will convert light energy to chemical energy, resulting in the production of oxygen and energy-rich organic compounds, but the cyanobacteria in these—” She pointed the closed shears at the roots on the windowsill— “Though still nitrogen-fixing, they will process yellow sunlight at a much faster rate? And thereby, —” Lena frowned, letting her hand drop before she clipped another leaf for Eliza. “These… _Alstairan_ Roots?” She glanced at Eliza for confirmation and got a nod in response. “They metabolize sunlight like… like _he_ does?” Her voice dropped to a whisper, as if she was nervous to continue speaking. “Like… _Superman_?”

Kara’s heart crashed through into her stomach, then jumped back up and all the way into her throat, quivering with nerves as it sat there.

“They do,” Eliza said simply. Not the least bit fazed. “Almost precisely so.”

There she stood, Dr. Eliza Danvers, brilliant scientist, calmly discussing Superman and the metabolization rates of yellow sunlight with none other than Lena Luthor.

“Wow,” Lena breathed. She licked her lips and crouched down to be eye-level with Eliza’s alien pet plants, eyes fixed on the largest green leaves. “That’s… amazing.” She reached out a gloved hand and gently lifted one leaf to study it more closely. Rubbing her fingers together for a moment, she carefully sniffed the air.

“Lemon?” She looked up at Eliza, who smiled and crouched down next to her, resting a hand on Lena’s back and reaching out for the same leaf that Lena was still holding between her thumb and forefinger.

“Look closer,” she said, pointing. “On the bottom.”

Lena did. “It’s… it’s a defense mechanism!”

“Smart girl,” Eliza praised, and Kara watched Lena’s shoulders fly up before she relaxed again. “Citrus scents activate happiness boosting hormones. Happy people don’t kill plants.”

Lena let out a small, adorable giggle.

“They also stimulate the nervous system, making you more alert and attentive.”

“Clearly, I’ve been choosing the wrong office plants,” Lena quipped, and Eliza smiled at her, running her hand lightly across Lena’s back as she got back to her feet.

“Could you hand me another, dear?”

Although it felt slightly surreal, the sight of her adoptive mother and Lena science-ing it up in their pyjamas in the kitchen on a Sunday morning, made Kara buoyant with gratitude.

Eliza had decided Lena was part of the family now, and Lena was going with it— and Kara felt the sudden urge to stage a dance number.

The prospect of having _the talk_ with Lena however, quickly punched a hole in her happiness, making her deflate and lean against the doorframe for support. Right. She had almost forgotten about that pesky little detail for a glorious second.

“ _Mom_ loves her, huh?” Alex’s voice was so close to Kara’s ear, Kara let out a squeak and jumped, and Alex just moved past her and into the kitchen, laughing. “Move, you’re holding up the line.”

Kara glared at Alex, covering her heart with a hand and feeling it beat unevenly.

Lena looked up and quickly got to her feet—turning her whole body towards Kara in that sunflowery fashion—and, when Lena wished her good morning, Kara ducked her head, cheeks reddening, and rushed her reply.

“G-Good morning, Lena.”

Alex snorted into her coffee, and Eliza shot her a sharp look.

“You— you were up early?”

“Yes.” Lena shrugged, and plucked a piece of dead leaf off one of her gloves before slipping them off and dumping them in the trash. “I don’t usually sleep late.” She took off the goggles, handing them back to Eliza, and sat down, taking the seat next to Alex and opposite Kara.

Kara hadn’t missed how Lena had lowered herself down onto the seat gingerly, nor how she had drawn up one foot to sit on it, and she made a mental note to shorten their bike time for the day.

“And us early birds already had us a nice breakfast, didn’t we?” Eliza said, smiling at Lena. She turned to Alex. “Which reminds me, Maggie said to tell you she went out for a run.”

“Yeah.” Alex yawned. “She does that.” Alex reached for a bowl on the table and spooned yoghurt into it, before she took the plastic wrap off the remainder of this morning’s fruit selection and began adding fruit to her breakfast, carefully avoiding the banana slices as she went.

“Alexandra,” Eliza warned, and Kara watched Lena’s ears go pink as she ducked her head.

“What? I don’t _like_ bananas, Mom.”

Eliza clucked her tongue, but didn’t press the issue.

Exchanging a look with Lena, Kara grinned and pulled the box of Frosted Flakes towards her, filling her own bowl with a healthy helping that left very little space for milk. When she added the milk anyway, it spilled, and Lena covered her mouth with her hands, hiding her wide smile behind them.

“I raised a pair of mannerless heathens,” Eliza sighed. “Oh, dear me. Girls!”

“Sorry,” Kara said, quickly jumping to her feet to fetch the dishrag and bumping her knees into the table, which, thankfully, Jeremiah had bolted to the floor years ago to prevent what would otherwise have happened when a super-powered Kryptonian bumped into a piece of furniture with her knees.

“Careful,” Eliza said, then shook her head, laughing. “I’m sorry, Lena. Please excuse them. I don’t know what’s gotten into these daughters of mine this morning.”

Before Lena could reply, Alex said, “Oh, but she’s _always_ like this,” pointing her spoon at Kara, who stuck out her tongue in response.

Eliza threw up her hands. “Okay, I give up.” She laughed again. “Girls, I’ll leave you to it,” she said, getting to her feet and placing her mug in the sink. “I’ll go lie down for half an hour or so.”

“She was working last night,” Kara explained when Eliza was out of earshot. “Probably didn’t get much sleep.” Kara felt her cheeks go warm at the memory of why exactly Eliza hadn’t gone back to bed sooner than she had, feeling a little guilty. Humans needed way more sleep than Kryptonians.

“Stupid storm,” Alex said. “Right above us too. Maybe, if you got a minute later—” She looked at Kara, hesitated, and, with a quick glance at Lena, went on. “You could help me check the roof? We need to make sure there’s no damage. We don’t need another water damage disaster.”

“Sure thing,” Kara said.

“I can help too,” Lena said, then added. “I’m not super great with heights, but if there’s anything else I can do—”

“Plants, flowers, and gnomes need checking too,” Alex said, grinning. “Mom loves her little gnomes, but they aren’t really built for storms.”

“I just hope Dr. Gnome is okay!” Kara said.

Lena raised one signature brow. “Dr. Gnome?”

“That’s the ugly one wearing a lab coat, black gloves, and goggles,” Alex said. “He’s with the rhododendrons”

“He’s not ugly, Alex!” Kara protested, watching her sister give Lena a look that contradicted that statement and made Lena laugh.

“I’ll check on Dr. Gnome then,” Lena said with a nod. “And plants and flowers.”

Kara looked at Lena, resting her head on her hand.

“What?” Lena asked, catching her smiling.

“Nothing,” Kara said, and Lena smiled back, tilting her head. “You should probably take these out of your hair first, though.” Kara reached across the table to remove a bag clip from Lena’s hair, causing a few strands to fall into her face.

Lena hastily brushed them behind one ear and reached up for the rest of the bag clips, removing them with a deep blush glowing in her cheeks.

Their eyes met across the table.

Kara leaned forward, stomach fluttering, as she took out another clip that Lena had missed.

“T-Thank you.”

Alex groaned.

“Get a room,” she muttered, and Kara and Lena both drew back, embarrassed. Lena sucked in her bottom lip, and glanced up at Kara, who sat with her elbows on the table and her hands covering her cheeks to hide the color that was burning in them.

Lena tilted her head to the other side. “Kara— why are you _dressed_?”

Alex nearly choked on her coffee.

“Now I feel underdressed.”

“Your pyjamas are still fancier than my ripped jeans,” Kara said. “So, you win.”

Kara was totally unprepared for the smile that spread across Lena’s face, a smile bordering on suggestive. “I _like_ ripped jeans.” Her voice dropped an octave. “We both win.” 

“Okay.” Alex shoveled the last of her yoghurt into her mouth, her spoon clattering noisily. “I’m out of here. Hitting the shower.” She left her bowl in the sink and hurried out of the room.

“Too much?” Lena asked innocently, and Kara laughed the tight feeling in her belly away. It wasn’t a bad feeling per se, but she didn’t quite know what to make of it, and that made her nervous.

“Pfft, Alex is a lightweight,” she joked, flapping her hand in the general direction of the kitchen door.

“And you? Kara Danvers?”

Kara’s mouth went dry. “I—”

Lena’s hand played with her hair. She never broke eye contact, and Kara felt herself flush all over. Had she been a cartoon character, there would have been steam, probably, but, even without that tell, Lena was reading her like an open book, a smirk curling her lips.

“Thought so,” she said. “Runs in the family, then.”

Kara’s heart skipped a nervous beat as Lena leaned in; and she felt her jaw drop as Lena’s warm breath hit her ear and neck. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I like that too. It’s cute.”

“Uh-huh.”

Kara had forgotten how to form words momentarily. Lena seemed to be enjoying herself, though, and Kara couldn’t say she minded, exactly; it just confused her beyond coherent sentences when Lena dialed it up like this out of nowhere.

Lena was like a rich and sumptuous chili chocolate cake—sweet one moment and spicy the next—and Kara suddenly found, she was both starving and in the mood for another slice, longing for that irresistible warmth radiating off Lena.

Recalling the past night, Kara felt her blush deepen and she took another spoonful of her breakfast to cool down. “Woke up starving,” she mumbled.

Lena glanced toward the door then fished a piece of strawberry from the fruit bowl and plopped it into her mouth. “Mm-hmm.”

“Thank you for… last night, by the way,” she said, her voice swinging towards earnestness. “I— You didn’t have to do that.”

Chewing on a mouthful of soggy Frosted Flakes, Kara waved her words away.

“That’s… three times you’ve saved me now, Kara,” Lena said. “If you’re planning on making that into a habit, maybe we need to get you a white steet to go with it?”

Kara grinned. “I always wanted a pony, but Eliza said no.”

Lena looked at her, her eyes twinkling, and Kara should probably have said something to make sure Lena didn’t actually go and buy her a horse, but she got lost in a forest of green on the way, and the words got stuck in the undergrowth.

“Well, if Eliza said no to the horse…” Lena said slowly. “Then I’ll have to think of something else.”

Kara was sure Lena had left that hanging there on purpose, and she narrowed her eyes at her. “No more flowers, Lena.”

“Darn,” Lena said. “There goes that idea too. You’re very hard to please this morning.”

They both laughed.

When Kara was done with her breakfast and Lena had finished her tea, they cleared the table, Kara turned on the dishwasher, and, while Kara went outside to—grudgingly—get the tall ladder from the garage—broad daylight and all that—to check on the roof, Lena went upstairs to shower, brush her teeth, and get dressed, before she joined Kara and Alex outside.

When they were done checking for damages (there were none), Kara got out the bikes and she and Lena went back to the park. Lena insisted on riding as soon as they were a safe distance away from the house, and, after another short squabble over safety gear, Kara allowed it, riding one bike’s length behind her to keep Lena in sight at all times.

It wasn’t raining, not anymore, but the park had clearly been hit by the storm too, and been hit hard. Branches and leaves covered many of the pathways and Kara made sure they avoided those, which left them with a, relatively clear, straight strip of path running through the center of the park, and not much else.

Lena was determined to practice, though, so practice they did.

Thankfully, the storm had also taken the heat, most of the people, and all the dogs with it, so practice went without a hitch.

It hadn’t been raining when they had left the house and, although overcast, the sky hadn’t looked like it was going to rain again any time soon; which was why, when it suddenly happened, they were hit between the eyes— or rather hit with buckets of icy water dumped out right over their heads.

Shrieking and laughing, they pedaled for shelter, finding it right next to the park, in the shape of the bus stop. Home was too far and there was no bus service on Sundays anyway, so sitting underneath the rectangular roof and waiting it out was their best option. The bikes didn’t fit, but they didn’t mind getting wet, so they had parked them right next to the bus shelter.

The rain drummed on the roof, but it was nowhere near as loud, nowhere near as aggressive as it had been the previous night.

Lena took off her helmet, her hair deliciously disheveled. Her expression was serious, almost pensive as she looked at Kara, then down at her shoes. Rain was clinging to the lengths of her hair, her shirt and jeans, and Lena shuddered involuntarily, rubbing her arms.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Kara said, scooting closer, still fixed to her hair and shirt. Would they be as soft as they were last night in the dark, she wondered dimly, before snapping herself out of it.

“You’re apologizing for the weather?” Lena’s eyebrows were raised, her tone was teasing, but when Kara couldn’t think of anything witty to say back, her question hovered in the air unanswered, a reminder of all the answers Kara actually owed her. All the answers and apologies.

Lena tilted her head toward hers and, without thinking, Kara’s hand tucked her hair behind her ear. She should have been thinking about how to tell Lena about the article. She should have been preparing herself to reveal her true identity. She should have practiced groveling apologies in her head. Instead, Kara was thinking about wrapping Lena in her arms and peppering little kisses all over Lena’s face until she was all warm, giggly and scrunchy; until her laughter would be tingling in Kara’s ears.

“Kara—?”

Startled out of her thoughts, Kara pulled back from Lena, putting a bit of distance between them. Given the nature of the uncomfortable seats, however, it wasn’t much.

Lena gave a small chuckle. “Are you still here with me?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Kara shook her head to shake herself out of it for good. “Sorry.”

“Good,” Lena said, resting her head on Kara’s shoulder, and Kara automatically wrapped one arm around her. Just a gesture of comfort. Nothing more.

Kara stiffened. She had to do it. And she had to do it now. She removed her arm, kneading her hands in her lap.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she whispered, but her voice didn't seem to want to emerge from her chest.

Lena looked up at her. “Hmm?”

Kara said, “I have something I want to tell you.” — And this time the words actually made it out in one piece.

Lena’s mascara had smudged under her eyes, but she was still the most beautiful girl Kara had ever seen, her eyes bright and her lips quirked in a crooked smile.

“Me too,” she said, straightening and turning her body toward her.

Kara licked her lips. They were cold and tasted like rain. “May I—?” 

“You could, but Kara—” Lena studied her intently, her expression thoughtful for a second, before it softened to something that struck Kara at her core and made her tremble from the inside out. “It’s okay. I already know.”

“You…”

Kara’s head was spinning. Lena knew? But how?

“I know.” Lena took Kara’s hand.

Kara squeezed hers back, expecting her to let go, but she didn’t.

“And I wanted to be—” Lena bit her lip, pausing, then letting it go with a tiny pop, followed by a sigh. “I wanted to be your… girl, Kara. From the first night I saw you at the Port, I wanted that. I wanted you. And I wanted you to want me too. And I think, I hope, that’s what you want too?”

Everything in Kara began to buzz. Lena’s words were like concentrated sunlight entering her bloodstream at an impressive velocity, making her slightly lightheaded and giddy.

“You came into the bar with… with your sister and Maggie. You came in, in that sweet dress with that shy smile on your face. And I knew nothing about you; about who you were, but I watched you look around. You touched that flag on the wall when you thought no one was looking. And—”

“I didn’t know you were,” Kara found herself saying. “Watching me, I mean.”

“I was.” Lena smiled shyly. “Why do you think Andrea chatted you up at the bar?”

“You—” Kara looked at her, confused. “What?”

The rain tapped the roof; the cool wind blew and whistled— and they both ignored it. Kara leaned back to think, but still held Lena’s hand tight.

“I… I googled you, you know,” Lena said, a soft blush creeping into her cheeks. “After the CatCo party.”

“You did?”

“Yes.” Lena shook her head slightly, casting her eyes down. “And I hate when people do that. I’d much rather they got to know me through actually talking to me, but I couldn’t help myself.” She glanced at Kara. “In my defense, I needed to know where to send the flowers, didn’t I?”

Kara felt something warm expand and flutter in her chest.

“Kara,” Lena said. “Look, I _know_.” She stopped and then she made sure Kara was looking at her. “You don’t have to say it.” Her eyes bore into Kara’s. “But you can. If you want to. You can tell me anything, Kara.”

Lena looked so vulnerable, so hopeful, her eyes wide and brimming with emotion.

Kara swallowed. She was making this hard for Lena.

“I’m so sorry,” Kara said. All this time, Lena had waited for her to say something. To be honest about who she was. About what she felt. And Kara had let her down. Time and time again. “I should have said something sooner. I— I didn’t know… I wasn’t sure if—”

Tears filled Kara’s eyes and spilled over, but she hardly noticed over the bright smile Lena was giving her. “Ever since we went to Nautica, I’ve been waiting for a time to tell you. Tell you that—”

Lena wiped tears off her face, but more just rushed after.

“It’s okay, Kara,” she said. “Just… say yes?”

“Yes?” Kara blinked against her tears.

“Do you mean that?” Lena smoothed Kara’s hair behind her ear, away from her wet face.

Kara couldn’t stop crying. She didn’t have to say it. Lena knew. Lena knew and she was okay with it. She was still here. This was so much more than she had dared to hope for. This was everything. This was too much.

“I do.”

Lena pulled her close to her, until Kara was smaller than she knew she could be. Until she fit against Lena’s chest, her head nestled where her neck met her shoulder, and she gasped, because she remembered something. Something else. She would tell her, tell her everything now.

“Lena—”

“Kara, can I—?”

They had spoken at the same time.

“Kara, can I… kiss you?”

Kara’s hand was clutching Lena’s shirt. Lena inhaled sharply. “Say yes,” she said again, voice barely above a whisper and soft, oh so soft, it was almost not pleading. Almost.

Kara wanted to say yes. She wanted to say yes more than she’d ever wanted anything.

Could it really be this easy?

She never thought it would happen. But it was happening now.

Kara was still crying. She was holding Lena tight. If she let go, all of Kara’s happiness would go with her. But Lena held her close for a very long time, and then she took her face between her hands and said, “Say yes. Please,” giving Kara yet another chance, and this time, Kara took it.

“Yes,” she said, wiping at her tears with a trembling hand. “Yes.”

Lena pressed her mouth to her cheek, and Kara’s heart swelled, her chest ached.

“Lena—”

Before she could do more than breathe Lena’s name desperately, more than blink, Lena’s lips were on hers. Soft and warm and wonderful, and Kara let her own lips part under the gentle pressure, deepening the kiss and allowing Lena all the access she wanted.

Lena kissed her like there was no choice, kissed her like she was the finest thing she would ever taste and the rain that soaked through her jeans didn’t even matter.

“Kara.” Lena’s smile when she looked at her— burning with love.

It would be all Kara remembered. She would never forget. “Lena?”

Lena kissed her again, deeply, passionately, and the world fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting. Lena’s hand rested below Kara’s ear, her thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingled. Kara ran her fingers down Lena’s spine, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them and she could feel the beating of Lena’s heart against her chest.

Lena’s sweet little laugh tingled on her lips, reverberated in her body, and sunk deep into Kara’s bones.

“Took us long enough,” Lena said when they finally came apart. Her cheeks and lips were pink. “But we’re here now, aren’t we?”

“Yes…” was Kara’s breathless answer. She searched Lena’s face, hesitated. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? With… me?”

Lena smiled, kissing her again instead of using her words.

On the way home, Kara felt like she was floating rather than riding her bike. Maybe it really didn’t matter how they had gotten here. Maybe Lena really didn’t care about that. Maybe Lena did want her regardless.

They could talk later. Of course, they would talk. Kara wanted to share more than just kisses. She wanted to share herself, tell Lena about Krypton and her family. Properly. Just… have a conversation about it, no big deal. Yeah, they could definitely do that.

Before Kara could think more on the matter, there was a screeching sound, tires scraping across gravel and mud, and a loud clattering noise, followed by a yelp. Kara’s insides froze as she hit the brakes.

“Lena!”

Jumping off her bike and letting it drop right then and there, she didn’t care about the rules. By Lena’s side in a flash, Kara’s hands flew to Lena’s legs, her arms, her face.

“Are you okay?”

Lena swallowed hard. “Yeah, I’m… fine,” she breathed, but the words came out clipped and strained. “My fault. Didn’t look where I was going.” She felt for the pain, blood trickling down her leg, her designer jeans ripped at the knee, and whispered a curse to the skies as she shifted her weight, carefully propping herself up on one arm before sitting up.

She wasn’t wearing the pads. Why wasn’t she wearing the pads?

“Oh, Lena.”

A single tear mingled with the mud on Lena’s cheek as it rolled down. Lena’s trembling fingers fumbled with the clasp and she took her helmet off.

Kara took a deep breath. There was mud on Lena’s face, her arm, her shirt, her jeans. Her jeans were ripped at the knees, and one knee was scraped and bloody, as were her palms.

“We need to get you home.”

Kara pressed a kiss to Lena’s forehead, looking over her head. The house wasn’t far. Just down this street and round a corner. It wouldn’t look weird, if she—? Actually, who cared if it did?!

Carefully lifting Lena into her arms, one hand resting comfortably on Lena’s back and the other supporting her weight under her thighs, Kara cradled Lena close. Her ears were deaf to Lena’s rueful protests as she carried her like she would a baby bird. Gentle, gentle, slow. Not too much pressure.

Lena looped her arms around her neck and kissed the corner of her mouth, before burying her face in the crook of Kara’s neck. “You’re going to ruin your clothes,” she mumbled. “And I’m sorry about the bike.”

She didn’t care that she would get dirt and mud on her T-shirt. She didn’t care about the bloodstains. All she cared about was Lena.

“Forget the bike,” Kara said, slowing down to lean down and kiss Lena’s cheek. “Let’s make sure you’re okay first, alright?”

“I promise, I’m not hurt.”

“Liar. You’re bleeding.”

“Kara, I’m—”

“If you’re going to say _fine_ , Lena, I’m going to drop you,” Kara warned, speeding up her steps, but not… _unnaturally_ so. She was in enough trouble as it was. And Eliza’s face if the neighbors suddenly started to enquire after her youngest daughter’s superpowers wasn’t something Kara wanted to see outside the safety of her own imagination.

“Watch your head,” she said as they ducked inside the door. She made a beeline for the kitchen, startling a wide-eyed Maggie to her feet as she carefully lowered Lena down onto a chair. Lena dropped her helmet on the table, then bent down to take off her shoes.

“What happened to you?” Maggie asked, taking in their messed up clothes and flushed faces. She shook her head and tsked at them. “In this weather. Stupid.”

Before Kara or Lena could retort, she had turned around and dug an ice pack out of the freezer. She wrapped it in a clean dish towel and handed it to Kara. “Babe,” she called over her shoulder. “Where does your mother keep the iodine?”

Alex was in the door within seconds, a stack of board games in her arms. “What happened?”

“By the looks of it, Luthor got wiped out.” Maggie gestured at Lena, who had gone very still, her head bowed and her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip so hard, Kara was worried she would break the skin and draw blood.

Alex blew out a breath, dumped the games on the counter with a huff, and began to rummage for the first aid kit. The one that still sat in Kara’s saddle bag. The saddle bag on her bike. The bike she had abandoned on the side of the road.

“Alex, can you just take a look?” Kara asked, before Alex could lose her temper over the missing kit. “We probably have to take this upstairs anyway.”

Her sister shot her look that said she’d have Kara’s head for whatever this was later and came over, crouching down in front of Lena, while Kara nervously hovered behind her, her hands kneading Lena’s shoulders.

“May I?” Alex asked, and Lena nodded.

“I’m… It’s not that bad, really,” Lena said. She had gone limp against Kara, allowing Alex to carefully examine her arms and hands.

“You wore a helmet?”

“Yes.”

“Any dizziness or nausea? Headache?”

“No.”

Alex nodded. “What happened?”

Lena licked her lips and tilted her head back, her eyes flickering up to Kara’s, before she looked at Alex again.

“I— uh, I hit something slippery, and the bike slipped out from under me,” Lena said, her voice bashful.

“Yeah. Her bike slipped and skidded, tipping Lena onto the loose gravel and dragging her with. Looked pretty… bad.” Kara could barely get the words out around the lump in her throat, and Alex’s displeased glare softened when she looked up at her.

Whatever Alex was doing with her hands, it brought a pained grimace to Lena’s face and had her inhale sharply.

“Sorry,” Alex said. “I can’t really see in this mess. Doesn’t look like anything’s broken or sprained though. Keep your weight off that ankle and put some ice on it, just to be safe. Abrasions don’t look deep.” She looked at Kara. “Rinse out, clean, and let breathe for a bit. Iodine should help.”

Kara nodded. “Bathroom then.”

Lena got to her feet, favoring her hurt leg, and Kara hastily put an arm around her, nudging Lena’s arm around her neck.

“I can walk, Kara.”

“Like hell you can,” Alex said. “What did I just say about that ankle, Lena?”

Lena chewed her lip. “Keep off it.”

“And I meant it.” Alex picked the ice pack up from the table and handed it to Lena. “No weight on that leg until at least tomorrow morning. Is that understood?”

She fixed Lena with her sternest gaze, and Kara felt her own neck prickle from empathy, her cheeks warming with it.

“Yes, ma’am.” Lena muttered, casting her eyes down; and before she could protest, Kara simply swept her up in her arms again, trilling a “You heard my sister, Lena,” into her ear and noting the deliciously pink tip. She pressed a kiss to it. “Off we go.”

As they left the kitchen, Kara cradling Lena in her arms and Lena clutching her ice pack in her hands, they heard Maggie snort and burst out into a loud guffaw of laughter.

“She called you ma’am!” Maggie’s words were barely intelligible. “How does it feel to be 29 going on 103?”

“Shut up, Mags.”

“Hey, Alex,” Kara called, stopping at the foot of the stairs. “Could you pick up the bikes? They’re back somewhere between us and Piccadilly.”

She held her breath, waited. One beat, two.

“Fine!” came Alex’s disgruntled voice from the kitchen, and Kara sniggered. “Wait, Kara—!”

Before Alex could chew her out for leaving the bikes, Kara hurried up the stairs and kicked the bathroom door shut behind her and Lena.

She set Lena down so she sat on the toilet seat. Then she got the iodine bottle, cotton swabs and pads, and a soft washcloth out from under the sink. On second thought, while running hot water in the sink, she doubled back for gauze, a pair of scissors, and plaster, choosing the glow-in-the-dark over the boring skin tone option.

“So, that wasn’t mortifying,” Lena muttered, watching her set up on a guest towel on the floor. “I really am—”

“Shush.” Kara pointed a finger at her face, grinning. “And don’t be silly, Lena. Now, put your foot up on my thigh and pull up the leg of your pants for me?” Kara patted her thigh, and Lena’s face crumpled in frustration. She ran a hand across it, fingers getting tangled up in her hair.

“Lena.”

Lena groaned, but did as Kara had asked. However, her jeans proved too ‘skinny’ to slide up her leg and she huffed out a breath, dropping back against the wall and accidentally setting the flush off.

Kara giggled, and Lena hid her face behind her hands.

“Well,” Kara said, still grinning, and gently nudged Lena’s leg. “Pants will have to go then, won’t they?”

Realizing what she had just said, Kara felt her ears grow hot, but hoped Lena wouldn’t notice.

Lena looked at her through her fingers. “Wow, so not how I pictured this to go, you know,” she said, and dropped her hands to her lap.

Trying not to think about Lena picturing _anything_ , Kara sat up on her knees and tapped her shoulder encouragingly, indicating that Lena should lean on her.

Lena bit her lip and shook her head, then slowly reached down and unbuttoned her jeans. She slid them down her thighs, paused and glanced at Kara, then carefully pushed them lower, hissing when the stiff material rubbed over her knees.

Kara could hear her heart pound and scooted a little closer, kneeling at Lena’s feet. Her eyes found Lena’s before she reached out and gently pulled the legs of her jeans down the rest of the way, exposing a long but shallow cut on Lena’s right calf. Lena made no sound, but Kara saw her knuckles go white against the deep blue of the toilet seat.

Checking Lena over, Kara took in the cut, the scrapes and the road-burn— and her heart clenched painfully. She knew it wasn’t that bad—objectively speaking, Alex had said so—but seeing Lena hurt still hurt her heart. 

“Sorry,” she breathed, pulling Lena’s jeans over her feet and tossing the ruined things aside.

When she turned back, there were little goosebumps on Lena’s pale skin, and Kara felt herself blush as she imagined trailing her fingertips over them, following them all the way up. Lena really had legs for days, didn’t she? She rested Lena’s right foot in her lap and quickly averted her gaze, focusing all her attention on the iodine bottle and cotton swabs instead.

“I’m going to clean first, okay?” she said, one hand around Lena’s ankle as she sat up and twisted around to dip the washcloth into the warm water. 

Lena made a defeated noise, gesturing wordlessly, and Kara’s eyes followed the graze on her elbow to the angry red marks that curled themselves around Lena’s arm like a snake.

She would have to take care of that arm, too.

Lena sat meekly as Kara dabbed and cleaned, taking one filthy leg after the other and washing the dirt and grime away with the cloth. Having learned from Eliza and Alex that human injuries had a tendency to get infected and become nasty, if not kept properly clean, Kara was extra thorough and took her sweet time, making sure there was no dirt or gravel left anywhere.

When she was done, it was only Lena’s pale skin, warmed by the washcloth and Kara’s hands. Lena’s pale skin and the ghastly pink marks standing out against it.

Lena had let her wash her injuries, but pulled her legs away, drawing her knees up to her chest when Kara exchanged the cloth for a cotton swab drenched in iodine.

“You know,” Lena said, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “I remember this from my early college days. I, err, I don't think I need iodine,” she murmured, trying to hide her face behind her legs.

“Nice try,” Kara said, shaking her head. “Come here.” She patted her thighs firmly, staring Lena down until Lena gingerly moved her right leg back and let Kara grab her foot, while she wrapped her arms around her left leg and rested her chin on the part of her knee that didn’t look bruised.

Kara gently dabbed the cut, figuring it would be best to get the worst out of the way first, and do it quickly.

“Ow.” Lena pouted.

“That’s what you get for not wearing your knee pads,” Kara said.

“Wow,” Lena laughed. “Kara Danvers, the paragon of compassion, everyone.”

Kara stuck out her tongue, and, laughing, Lena scrunched her nose until her face was all flushed and adorable.

“Okay, second round,” Kara warned, before taking the iodine to Lena’s cut again. Then she exchanged the swabs for a pad and took care of Lena’s knee— and Lena set her teeth, closing her eyes briefly when iodine touched bloody, broken skin.

“Breathe,” Kara said, waiting until Lena had taken a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I have to go again.”

Lena flinched when she dabbed iodine on the road-burn again, but didn't make a sound.

“Ah, _fuck_ ,” she muttered, her pretty lips curling around the expletive. “Okay, _ow_!” she complained after another minute, watery green eyes looking at Kara reproachfully and pink lips pulled into yet another pout.

“Lena Luthor,” Kara teased and kissed her softly on the back of her knee, that medicinal smell of the iodine hitting her nose as she inhaled. Lena squirmed, but Kara’s hand was around her leg and didn’t let her pull away. “She can beat one Alex Danvers, undefeated champion of a decade, at Bullshit, but she can't handle a dab of iodine!”

Kara followed up her statement with another kiss to that sensationally soft skin, and Lena’s squeaked “Kara!” had to be the most adorable sound that Kara had ever heard. Grinning, she looked up at Lena, who looked back at her with her lips slightly parted and her chest rising and falling in time with the rhythm of her fast heartbeat.

She swallowed.

“What, no witty retort?” Kara asked, happy to keep Lena distracted as she let go of her leg and turned towards the sink, dipping a second washcloth into clean, warm water. Smiling as she turned back, she shuffled forwards on her knees, right hand holding the cloth and her left gently parting Lena’s knees, so she could move closer and take Lena’s hand in hers, her thumb gently stroking her wrist as she examined the grazed palm.

Lena’s breathing hitched, and Kara looked up at her, alarmed. “Does that still hurt?” She asked, gently blowing on, rather than kissing, that palm, making her breath just fractionally cooler, before she carefully dabbed at it with the washcloth.

“You're awfully quiet, Lena.” She took Lena’s right hand in hers next, massaging it with the cloth, gently working it along her arm to the elbow, then rinsing again. “Are you okay?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Lena looked at her, all heavy-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks, and Kara felt heat jump between them, transferring from Lena onto her, and settling directly in the pit of her stomach. Low, low in her stomach— and travelling lower. 

Warmth pulsing through her veins, Kara kept her eyes strictly on Lena’s hands.

Lena’s hand squeezed hers, let go. She reached for the hem of her shirt, hesitated, then pulled it over her head, and Kara quickly dropped her gaze to her own hands— hands that were wringing the washcloth over her lap and making a mess.

“You can look, you know.” Lena’s voice had gotten fruity enough to make a whole fruit salad.

Kara wouldn’t look at Lena, because her face had to be pretty pathetic—no one should be this absolutely hamstrung with whatever she was feeling; feeling for the simple reason of sitting this close to a gorgeous girl. A gorgeous girl in nothing but her underwear. The thought alone was like lightning under Kara’s skin.

“Uh, sorry, I—”

Kara looked up. Pale skin, black bra; Lena’s eyes dark and sparkling like the night sky.

“Hi.” Lena, now stripped down to her bra and panties, gathered her hair and twisted it playfully. “Hi, beautiful,” she breathed. “Come closer?”

Kara couldn’t move. She could barely breathe.

Lena leaned down and pressed her lips to hers—soft; a question waiting for an answer—and Kara returned the kiss adding pressure, adding urgency that took herself by surprise.

Lena hummed into her mouth. Then her lips were on Kara’s neck—kissing, nibbling, sucking—as she kissed a long, sensual line down Kara’s jaw and neck, right down over her pulse point and on down to her collarbone, and Kara let her head fall back as her mouth fell open.

Feeling her quiver, Lena pulled away, leaving a tingling sensation and a warm ache in her wake.

“Kara. I want—” Lena’s hands slipped down over Kara’s arms, and Kara felt her pulling the hem of her shirt from her jeans.

Wordlessly, Kara eased back enough so that Lena could slip it up over her head.

“ _Beautiful._ ” There was a softness in Lena’s voice, a reverence that had Kara’s heart clench almost painfully around the next few fast throbs, but there was something else there too. A spark that ignited on Kara’s skin as Lena ran her fingers over it. A fire that flared up in Lena’s eyes, setting their deep green ablaze.

“Golly…” Kara felt overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensations and emotions, her skin catching fire with every little touch and pulling taut.

Lena pressed another kiss to her lips; then tilted her head back and, with her hands digging into Kara’s shoulders, she gently kissed her throat again, Kara shivering at the sensation.

Kara wrapped her arms around Lena’s waist, and Lena let herself sink forward until her weight rested against her and their lips were pressed together in another mind-boggling kiss.

“Hey! You two okay in there?” There came a knock at the door and they flew apart like super magnets, faces flushed and breathing heavy.

“F-Fine,” Kara rasped into the silence, her voice strangely wobbly. “Out in a minute.”

“Mom says cake and tea in half an hour.” Alex’s voice was muffled by the door, and Kara was beyond grateful that Alex wasn’t the sister with x-ray vision.

She looked at Lena. Amazing, fun, smart, beautiful, sexy Lena. Lena smiling at her with lips that were plump from kissing and cheeks that were flushed and standing out most alluringly against the knuckles she pressed to her mouth to keep quiet. 

“Okay!”

There was silence on the other side of the door until Kara heard footfalls pound on the steps, and she and Lena dissolved into helpless giggles.

“Well,” Lena laughed. “ _Well._ ”

“Uh, … We should probably put on some clean clothes?” Kara suggested, suddenly seized by a bout of shame and embarrassment while her body still hummed in shameless approval.

“I suppose, we should,” Lena said, her uninjured elbow resting on her thigh and her chin in her hand as she looked at Kara. “Such a shame.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What could possibly go wrong... right?


	17. The Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was on the fence about adding this chapter.  
> But the sad news that Supergirl is ending after the upcoming season (and it being announced on our dear Kara's birthday too!), tipped the scales in favor, so here we are.
> 
> Please, mind the rating change! We're going from Teen to Explicit.

“Oh my!” Eliza exclaimed when they entered the kitchen a little while later, dressed in clean, comfy clothes.

Lena had had to borrow a pair of Kara’s jersey shorts, since, according to Alex, she was supposed to let her injuries breathe and all her clothes were too tight. She was wearing Kara’s favorite NCU shirt too. It looked good on Lena. Like, really, really good.

“Oh, you poor thing.” Eliza engulfed Lena in one of her signature mom-hugs and Lena froze, before tentatively putting her arms around Eliza and hugging back.

Kara smiled. The Danvers were huggers. Lena would have to get used to it.

“I’m f— Kara took really good care of me,” Lena said, glancing at Kara from inside the embrace and making her face grow warm. “It’s my fault. I should have been more careful.”

Eliza clucked her tongue, pulled back, and looked at Lena, her hands firmly on Lena’s shoulders. “Accidents happen, pet. Now, let’s focus on getting you comfortable, so you feel better sooner rather than later.” Her gaze swept over the laid table, landing on the chairs and lingering there for a moment, before she turned her attention to Alex. “Okay, everyone. Grab the plates, some cake, and forks. We’re taking this to the living room.”

Alex looked thunderstruck. Kara knew how she felt. Eliza _never_ allowed them to eat in the living room. Especially not sweet, sticky things that could potentially ruin the upholstery. Popcorn on movie nights had been the only exception for as long as Kara could remember.

“Cake? _Chocolate_ cake in the living room?” Kara asked, her voice giddy with the prospect.

“Best behavior, Kara,” Eliza warned gently. She smiled at Lena, who stood, head bowed and brows furrowed. Lena shifted her weight to her injured leg, wincing as she realized her mistake.

Before Eliza could say a word, Kara was by her side, her arm wrapped around Lena’s waist, which allowed Lena to sling an arm around Kara’s shoulders and lean on her.

“Yeah, weight off that leg, Lena,” Alex chided, shaking herself out of her shocked stupor and striding over to the fridge to produce another ice pack from the freezer. “Catch!” She tossed it at Kara, who only just caught it with her free hand.

“Kara,” Eliza said, running a concerned hand down Lena’s unbandaged arm. “You and Lena can go right up. We’ll take care of the rest.”

“Okey-dokey,” Kara said, pressing a kiss to Lena’s temple. “I’ve got you. Let’s go. Alley-oop!” She easily lifted Lena into her arms again, ignoring her mortified mutterings against her neck.

They settled on the couch. Kara made sure Lena was comfortable, her bad leg—bandaged from just above the knee to her ankle—propped up on a pile of pillows, and a soft blanket over her lap.

“There really is no need to fuss, you know,” Lena said, a strange look on her face. “You don’t have to… do all that. For me.”

Kara gave her a look, and Lena faltered, her hands kneading the soft blanket and betraying her true feelings.

“Thank you.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Kara grinned at her. “ _I’m_ getting to eat chocolate cake on the _couch_ , so thank _you_.”

That made Lena laugh, the sound music to Kara’s ears. She put her arm around Lena’s shoulders and Lena rested against her.

“I… don’t know what that has to do with me?” Lena whispered. “I didn’t do anything.”

Kara ran her finger along her jaw, leaning down to kiss her sweetly. Lena reached up and drew her closer, kissing her back passionately.

She got lost in the kissing. In the feeling of Lena’s soft lips against hers, the smell of her shampoo, the gentle pressure of her fingertips on her neck. Time stopped and space shrunk until it was just them; them on the couch, curled up together and kissing and breathing each other in and, surprisingly, Kara didn’t mind. It wasn’t constricting or scary in the way that her waking up in cold sweat on some nights was, but light and boundless and freeing. And she never wanted that feeling to stop.

“Ahem.” For a second time in the matter of an hour, they flew apart at the sound of Alex’s voice. “As much as I… get it—” There was laughter bubbling behind her words, but Alex chose to swallow it. “Can you two maybe… I mean, Mom is coming up here.”

She placed plates and napkins and forks on the table, but remained standing, eyeing them with a funny look on her face that Kara, flushed and slightly mortified, had trouble reading. Alex wasn’t mad, was she?

“Oh, let them be young and… horny.” Maggie's arms wrapped around Alex’s middle from behind as she peeked around her, grinning.

Alex grimaced. “Don’t,” she whispered, covering Maggie’s hands with her own. “Just… don’t.”

“Just calling it like I see it.” Maggie pressed a kiss to Alex’s shoulder and plopped down on one of the armchairs, a smug smile on her face.

Kara’s ears caught fire and she ducked her head, avoiding Maggie’s merciless gaze.

“Excuse me, excuse me. Cake coming through.” Eliza smiled as she carried in the cake and carefully set it down on the table. Her eyes flickered to their faces, a pleased expression appearing on her own when she found nothing but smiles around her. She picked up a knife and carefully balanced a slice of cake on the blade, sliding it onto a plate and handing it to Lena. “Here you go, love.”

“Thank you.” Lena took the plate, balancing it on her thighs. Her eyes were watery and her heartbeat fast, and Kara drew reassuring circles on her arm.

Eliza made sure everyone had a slice of cake, a napkin, a fork, and a drink, before she finally sat down for good, choosing to occupy the space on Lena’s other side on the couch. She didn’t reach out, like Kara knew she wanted to, but sat as close as she could, radiating warmth and compassion like a human space heater.

No one could resist the combination of Eliza’s magic and her chocolate cake, so Kara wasn’t surprised when she felt Lena relax into the situation and the conversation going around the table.

She smiled at Eliza and Eliza smiled back, and Kara felt echoes of that light and happy flutter again.

They enjoyed chocolate cake and milk (Kara), tea (Lena and Eliza), and coffee (Alex and Maggie). Then Alex brought up her selection of board games and the group decided on the classics: Monopoly, Game of Life, and Trivial Pursuit.

They spent the afternoon playing. Bent over the Monopoly board, feverishly exchanging paper money and moving their pieces towards Boardwalk— which, to everyone’s surprise, Eliza scooped up, smiling innocently as she robbed them of all of their hard-earned paper currency.

Lena and Alex went toe-to-toe during Trivial Pursuit, with Lena collecting all the six wedges in record time before Alex did, but answering the Sports & Leisure question incorrectly and having to leave center hub to try again— by which time Alex’s fully-loaded token landed in the middle of the board and she answered her game-winning question correctly, throwing her arms up in triumph.

Lena’s face was flushed, her hair disheveled from agitated hands running through it, and Kara had to keep from laughing at the shocked expression on her face. Apparently, Lena Luthor wasn’t used to losing.

Pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, Kara let out a small giggle, and Lena turned her head, looking at her like she had completely forgotten Kara was there. She blinked and blushed even harder.

“I’m— I’m usually good at this game?” She muttered, her eyebrows coming together in the most adorable frown.

“You _were_ good,” Kara said. “You just didn’t win, Lena.”

Lena’s frown deepened, and Kara laughed before kissing the bridge of Lena’s nose. “It’s just a game, Lena.”

Lena rested her head against her chest, hiding her face, and Kara pulled her into a hug.

Outside, the wind picked up and rattled the shutters and, for a wild second, Kara’s thoughts jumped to Kal-El, half hoping that it was indeed her cousin and not the weather causing the disturbance. She would tell Lena about him; about Krypton. And maybe then, maybe, she would reach out to Kal-El too.

Looking down at Lena, Kara wondered how much Lena already knew. About Superman. What would her brother have told her about him? What would he have told her about Krytonians? Nothing good, surely. And, as much as Kara wanted to set the record straight, she also felt suddenly terrified at the idea of doing just that.

Lena had said she knew. She had said she was fine with it.

But— what if she wasn’t? What if, after Kara talked to her, she would change her mind? It was her right to do so. Kara wouldn’t hold it against her if she did. But it would also hurt. Hurt like crazy. And Kara wasn’t sure she would survive it.

Feeling treacherous tears well up, Kara turned her head to look out the window. The late afternoon was a mean, grey clouds kind of a creature, hissing and spitting against the glass.

“Oh no, girls.” Eliza sighed. “I was hoping the forecast was wrong, but it looks like our annual bike ride might have to be postponed this year.” She smiled at Lena, who had stirred at her words and looked up with a guilty expression on her face. Kara simply stroked her back. “Even if the rain lets up, paths will be much too muddy.” Eliza’s hand was on Lena’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “And we don’t want any more accidents this weekend, now do we?”

“You— you could still go. You don’t have to—” Lena stammered.

“In that weather?” Maggie said, leaning back and shaking her head. “No, thank you. I’m staying nice and dry.”

“Me too.” Alex said, picking up her coffee cup and frowning into it. Empty.

“Me three,” Kara laughed.

“That’s settled then,” Eliza said.

“I’m sure we’ll find something fun to do inside the house.” Kara smiled at Lena. “Won’t we, Lena?”

“Oh, I am sure,” Maggie agreed, catching Kara’s eye and winking. “I am sure you will.”

“We— we all will. Have fun. Together. All of us.” Kara felt her voice quiver before she heard it squeak on the way out, and she had to fight the impulse to throw pillows at both Maggie and a silent, passive Alex. Lena needed those pillows.

They played and laughed and talked. Games were followed by a delicious dinner and dessert, and soon it was time for bed again. Lena no longer protested when Kara scooped her up to carry her upstairs, but insisted on standing, balancing her weight on one leg as they shared the sink.

Kara smeared toothpaste onto her toothbrush and began brushing back and forth, hard.

Lena brushed in the circular way you were supposed to, giving each tooth more than enough time.

Catching her eye in the mirror and smiling around her toothbrush, Kara watched Lena. She looked maybe a little tired and something else, too. It took Kara a minute to figure out what it was. Yes, without her face so heavily made-up and in a shirt and shorts rather than crisp business attire, Lena did look younger, but that wasn’t what was different about her tonight. Kara had seen her with no make-up on. That wasn’t it. Kara looked again, looked closer at pale skin, pink lips, and green eyes. And then she knew.

She looked happy.

There was no heaviness in Lena’s shoulders, no weariness in the way her hip leaned against the counter to support her weight. Her eyes were clear and bright; no pain, no puffiness, no darkness under them.

“What?” Lena mumbled, the word washed-out by sweet spearmint toothpaste.

“Nothing.”

They spat into the sink. They rinsed their brushes. They tapped in close succession.

Kara didn’t know what Lena was thinking about, she couldn’t even guess, but, by the looks of it, and despite everything, hers were happy thoughts— and that, in turn, made Kara very, very happy.

“Seriously,” Lena said, a hand flying to her cheek and rubbing at it willy-nilly. “If there’s toothpaste on my face, you are morally obliged to tell me, Kara.” She glanced at herself in the mirror, turning her head this way and that, then looked back at Kara with a scandalized frown, the kind that didn’t linger, but gave way to puzzled, adorable confusion and a cute head-tilt a moment later.

“No toothpaste.” Kara grinned.

“What is it then?”

“I— I like your smile, is all.”

Lena’s mouth opened, but she closed it again, biting her bottom lip as she looked at her feet.

“Nuh-uh. Don’t hide it.” Kara reached out to tip her chin back up, Lena following the movement of her hand even before she had made any actual contact. “That’s better.”

Kara leaned in to kiss the corner of her mouth, keeping her eyes on that smile that made her heart soar. She smiled back, feeling it almost burst with affection.

Lena safely in her arms, she walked back down the hallway, shut off the lights, and made to set Lena down gently on the bed, but Lena held fast, shaking her head and pointing to the desk.

Kara frowned at her.

“I need to check my emails,” Lena said. “And you need to wash your hair.” She twirled one strand of Kara’s hair around her hand. “There’s dirt in it.” Kara lowered her down so she could sit on the desk chair, then handed her her tablet computer. “Not that I mind. It looks kind of… sexy that way.”

Kara just laughed, ducked her head, and scurried off to the bathroom for a second time this evening; making a return trip to the bedroom for clean clothes to sleep in and finding Lena engrossed in whatever was happening on that little screen in her hands, her eyes fixed to it and her teeth biting down on her thumb, her brows knitted together in concentration.

Kara returned in a loose white shirt and a pair of black shorts. Her hair was still damp and her skin felt warm from the long, hot shower.

Lena had left the desk and moved to the bed in her absence. She was lying comfortably on her back; her hands playing with Cassiopeia’s little legs while the plush turtle rested on her stomach. Kara both wanted to become one with the air in the room so as not to disturb the sweet moment, and to trade places with her childhood companion.

Smiling, she padded over; the carpet soft under her bare feet as she crossed the room. Her footfalls were swallowed by the heavy rain outside.

“Hey, you two.”

Kara climbed into the bed. She shimmied down until they lay side by side. And, when Lena turned her head to look at her, Kara’s heart nearly gave out.

“Hi,” Lena breathed.

They were lying so close; everything was soft and blurry: vivid green, cherry blossom pink, dark long lashes fluttering.

Lena’s hand found hers; and then her lips did too; and they just lay there, kissing in the almost-dark of dusk, like they had all the time in the world. The kisses were slow, and soft, and sweet.

“You taste like Christmas,” Kara mumbled against Lena’s lips, as her own drew up in a smile. It wasn’t true. Underneath a faint layer of spearmint, Lena tasted like the vegan ice cream and tiramisu they had had for dessert, but something about that sugary sweetness on her tongue and the warm feeling in her belly reminded Kara of Christmas.

She loved Christmas.

Lena let out a breathless giggle, the sound so quiet it was barely even there, vibrating gently between them. “Mmmm. I like Christmas.”

“Me too.” Kara broke the kiss to look at Lena. “We— we could come back here for Christmas? Eliza makes a mean roast turkey. And her glazed carrots and chocolate pecan pie are to die for.”

Kara had been prepared for a lot of things. For Lena to tell her no, plain and simple. Maybe she didn’t want to come to Midvale again, maybe she had to work, maybe she wanted to spend the holidays with her own family. What she hadn’t been prepared for, however, was Lena’s face crumpling right before her eyes.

“Lena—?”

Kara’s chest went tight as Lena’s eyes brimmed over with silent tears.

“Oh, Lena!”

Helpless to do anything else, Kara pulled Lena closer and, mindful of her healing body, molded herself around her. Holding Lena as close as possible without hurting her, Kara closed her eyes and tried to put everything into the hug, hoping it would be comforting and warm— and convey just how important Lena’s happiness had become to her. How important Lena had become to her.

“Everything alright? Is this okay?”

“More than okay.” Lena’s voice was muffled against her neck, and Kara felt her tears on her skin.

“We—” Kara took a deep breath. “We don’t have to come. Here. For Christmas, I mean. If you’d rather—”

Kara broke off when a kiss was feathered to her collar bone. Then another one. And another. She blew out a breath and looked down to find Lena—nestled in the crook of her neck—smiling up at her. A watery, wobbly smile, but a smile it was nonetheless.

“I love everything… about this house,” Lena said slowly, her voice low and a little scratchy. “The noise, the smells, the people.”

“Don’t let them hear that,” Kara teased, tapping the tip of Lena’s nose with her finger. “They won’t let you go.”

A soft chuckle, an eye roll, and an adorable little pout— and then the tears were back; with Kara utterly useless to stop them.

“What's wrong?” Her arm tightened around Lena and she nuzzled her hair, mumbling a concerned, “You're scaring me, Lena. What is it? What can I do?” into it, before peppering every inch of that candy apple red cheek with kisses.

“It's just that… when your mom—” Lena took a shaky breath— “when Eliza hugged me today, she _really_ hugged me and—”

More tears and more kisses. Salty kisses rather than sweet ones, but Kara didn’t mind.

“ _Babe_ , that's a good thing. Smile,” Kara coaxed, trying on the term of endearment her sister and Maggie so frequently used for one another and finding it fitting her and Lena like an itchy knitted sweater of some ugly color. Mustard, maybe. Or maroon. She didn’t like it. “She likes you! They all like you.”

Lena sniffled.

“Smile. Now come on. Give me a smile, Lena.”

Lena obliged, the corners of her mouth lifting like it was a rather cumbersome procedure getting and then holding them up.

“Okay, that's good; that's it.” Kara pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Try again? For me?”

Lena blinked up at her, her eyelashes glistening wet with tears, and something in her eyes made Kara want to lose herself. She wanted to wander deep and get lost; to stay forever in this moment with Lena.

Lena cleared her throat. “How about—” She reached up to touch Kara’s cheek. “You give me a smile now? I’d really like that, Kara.”

Kara bit her lip on that inevitable smile that had already begun to bloom on her whole face, but, the moment her eyes caught sight of the glow-in-the-dark plaster pattern glowing on Lena’s arm and making her look partially celestial, she couldn’t hold back any longer.

Lena hummed in approval, sliding her free hand around Kara’s neck, her fingers touching that sensitive spot that had Kara go all soft and tingly.

Kara yielded at once when Lena pulled her back down; not even surprised at her strength.

“Come here.” Lena brought her mouth to hers, something in her voice making Kara’s heart beat faster. “Kiss me, please.”

She kissed her, leaving her mouth open and letting her tongue touch her lips. The kiss was slow and uncertain, then soft and smooth.

“Kara—”

A sharp pain made her open wider, her senses zeroed in on that intoxicating taste, that smell, the feeling of Lena’s body, warm and soft, and moving against her.

Kara couldn't help but moan as Lena’s tongue started to caress her own. She had kissed before and been kissed, of course she had, but not like this. Kissing had always been a rather awkward thing to do, sometimes pleasant, sometimes downright disgusting, but she couldn’t say that she had ever _enjoyed_ it. Until now. 

Kara’s hands wandered on their own, no longer accounted for as her brain shut off.

Lena’s lips, plump and delicious— and suddenly demanding, found purchase raining fiery kisses down her neck and across the V of her T-shirt. She ran her hands down Kara’s back and resumed kissing her mouth, a frantic rhythm growing between them; all shared, shallow breaths and breathless kisses.

Lena drew lazy swirls at the small of her back, and for the first time in a long time, Kara _wanted_. The want, the need, the… _desire_ — it came as jolts that made her feel warm all over. It pulsed at the apex of her thighs. It made her dizzy. Kara had never felt it so… strongly, so _acutely_ before. Had she ever felt it? Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

Lena moved and Kara moved with her. Lena’s lips were on hers again, fierce and fiery, and setting Kara’s skin ablaze— and Kara felt the burning need to lean in and answer in kind.

Only, she couldn’t.

Head swimming, vision blurry and sound gone all fuzzy, she felt her body overheat.

The heat was everywhere. The heat was too much.

Her heart racing and the pressure throbbing right on the edge of painful, Kara barely registered Lena pulling back, until her wonderfully cool hands cradled her face, gently stroking her cheeks as she murmured soothing nothings into the small space between them.

“Kara?” She was speaking barely above a whisper, her voice raspy and thick.

“ _Lena_.” Kara felt her voice crack, breaking Lena’s name right down the middle, and she swallowed back the sob that was rising in her throat. Her fingers raked through Lena’s hair, listless and coming away empty, a falling sensation in the pit of her stomach until her hand curled tightly around Lena’s shirt collar, her fingers latching on in an iron grip.

“I’m right here.”

Kara could barely make out the words over the racing thumb-thumb-thumb of her heart.

“What do you need?”

Yes, what _did_ she need?

“It’s… just, I—”

She was no virgin, not in the oddly specific and slightly disturbing sense of the word, but she was new at this. New and terrified. She wanted to—oh, she _wanted to_ —but, what if she lost control? What if she hurt Lena? By the way her body was reacting to a few kisses and lingering touches, that was a real possibility. Usually, she just held back—hyper aware of her body and the extra-human strength it held, capable of snapping any partner in half like a twig at any given moment with just one wrong, careless move—but what if she couldn’t do it this time?

Breathing heavily, Lena was watching her. And, oh Rao, Lena was beautiful. 

“I want—” Kara whispered, taking Lena’s hands and moving them to her hips. “I just— _slow_?”

Lena’s hands stayed exactly where Kara had placed them. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Kara said, moving closer and leaning forward for a tentative kiss, breathing a soft sigh against Lena’s slightly parted lips when Lena kissed her back.

She was sure. She wanted this. She wanted Lena. She had never wanted anything more. She wanted to feel Lena close, feel her body pressing against hers. She wanted those delicate, nimble fingers undressing and caressing her. She wanted to feel Lena—

Kara shivered as Lena’s hands moved, her thumbs rubbing slow, reassuring circles.

“Kara,” she whispered slowly, prolonging each sound as if to savor them, and Kara smiled, her heart and nerves melting like they were made from sweet, golden caramel. Never before had her name sounded so wonderful to her own ears and never had she felt so safe.

“Relax.” Lena’s breath was hot on her lips. “I’ve got you.”

Kara whimpered into the kiss. Lena was so soft with her, so gentle. And yet, when they parted, foreheads pressed together and breathing ragged, and their eyes met, there were those jolts of heat again. Tight, restless heat. Hot arousal coiling in her belly.

Rao. She was doing this.

Kara felt Lena’s gaze like a touch, invisible hands going _everywhere_ , touching _everywhere_ , slipping under clothes and—

Lena kissed all thought from her mind and the sound from her lips, and Kara felt her lips quiver against hers. Lena swept her hair aside and kissed her just over the collarbone. She nibbled at her ear, and then let herself sink down onto her, her weight pressing down on her and anchoring Kara to her body. Kara dug her fingers into the waistband of Lena’s shorts, dragging her closer.

“Oh… that’s not very slow at all,” Lena mumbled into her neck, gently nibbling at the skin at her mercy; skin that was heating up more the longer Kara’s hands stayed where they were and the further Lena’s mouth and hands traveled south.

“Nuh-uh. It’s not.”

“Is that okay?” Lena said, propping herself up and pausing for a moment to find Kara’s eyes in the expanding darkness.

Kara nodded, a whimper rising in her throat as Lena’s hand slid up the inside of her thigh, impossibly warm and soft against her hot skin. Next, Lena’s hands were at the hem of her shirt and, for a second time that day, Kara felt pliable cotton being pulled up and over until it was gone.

Lena’s gaze softened as her eyes roamed over her bare skin—her belly, her breasts—and Kara felt her skin pebble as she began kissing winding paths up and down.

“So beautiful,” Lena said into the next cluster of kisses. “You’re beautiful, Kara. I just want to kiss you all over.”

Kara hummed in astonished assent, her heart giving a nervous little stutter.

Oh, wow. Oh, Gods. Oh, Rao.

Lena’s hands were soft against her breasts, and Kara let her eyes flutter shut at the sensations that raced through her body at Lena’s touch, focusing on her breathing as Lena gently caressed them. When, however, mouth replaced fingers and lips fastened on tender parts, sucking on them gently but greedily, Kara’s breath hitched hard enough to make a gasp explode from her lips.

“Lena!”

Lena lifted her head and smiled warmly; smiled the kind of smile that seeped right through Kara’s skin and sunk deep into her bones with the intensity of a branding iron. Lena’s gaze, now hot and heavy, latched onto her face and, as Lena’s hands reached up to cup it, they had also wrapped firmly around Kara’s heart.

“You like that. You like that a lot.”

“I like you,” Kara breathed, and Lena laughed before she returned her attention to Kara’s breasts, sucking and licking, and making Kara lose her mind. Every touch, every sucking sensation, every movement of Lena’s tongue sent a shock wave through her and a bolt of white hot heat straight to her core. The air around them seemed to crackle with the electricity from every lightning strike, and Kara felt her body tense and pulse, muscles clenching around nothing, but desperate, wet heat.

“Oh… Gods, Lena. Uh, _please_ —” Kara whined, arching into the sensations that had her body yield to Lena like hot molten glass being blown into shape.

“Please what?”

Kara could hear the wicked grin, even if she couldn’t see it.

“What do you need, Kara?”

“You.”

The answering kiss was brief, and hot, but also reassuring, and Kara felt it tingle in the tips of her toes.

Blinking dazedly, she watched as Lena pulled back and gingerly rose to strip down to her panties. Her skin almost glowed—from the protective plaster, yes, but also from the soft moonlight now slanting in through the window—and Kara’s mouth went dry as she took in her perfect curves, the shape of her breasts—gently moving with her breathing—and her long, long, never-ending legs.

She was absolutely breathtaking.

“Please,” Kara said, reaching out for Lena as soon as she had sunk back onto the bed next to her. “Can I—?” Lena allowed herself to be pulled impossibly closer; for them to lie skin on skin as she sank back down into Kara, sighing contentedly as Kara ran her hands over her back.

“Now, where were we?” Her lips met Kara’s neck; Kara’s hands slid to cup her butt.

“Um.” Kara bit her lip, then initiated the next kiss, leaning up and into it. She felt almost like she was floating, even when Lena’s weight was pressing her back into the mattress, and every movement of Lena’s lips against hers sent little electric pulses racing down her spine.

Lena was kissing her like she might die if she didn’t, hungry and a little desperate; and Kara felt much the same, surrendering to every moment with grateful abandon.

“Right,” Lena giggled into her mouth.

Her hands were roaming Kara’s body again; every touch a new jolt, a jigsaw piece finally slotting perfectly into place, and it just felt… right. More so than anything had ever felt with anyone. It felt right— and Kara’s body was ready and willing, eager for more of Lena’s intoxicating, tantalizing touch; be it gentle and light, or rough and assertive, lingering or quick and a bit messy.

“Kara—?”

Lena ran her hands over her ribs, her diaphragm; her fingers swirling around her belly button, dancing over her hip bones, caressing every inch of her except for that which craved her attention the most— and Kara thought that she might actually just prefer messy over the rest of her options.

Lena’s fingertips danced over the points of her hip bones, the hollow just beneath them, and edged lower, until they came to rest on the waistband of Kara’s shorts— a waistband that was already no longer living up to its name. 

“Can I take this off?”

Stomach fluttering, Kara nodded, bringing her hands down to cover Lena’s as she slid the garment down. Never breaking eye contact, she lifted herself off the bed long enough so it could be tossed aside, and immediately wrapped her arms around Lena again to bring her back down on top of her.

The next second, Lena’s leg was between hers, pressing hard and heavy, but not relieving any of the pressure and excitement that was building right there, and Kara felt she needed more. She needed Lena like she needed oxygen.

“Please, _touch me_.”

“I thought… I already was?” Lena chuckled, and the kiss that followed was a thorough exploration of her mouth. Like Lena had forgotten how she tasted in the two minutes since she had last kissed her.

A low purr built at the back of Kara’s throat, finding its way until it came out a slightly frustrated growl. “You… you know what I mean.” Kara guided Lena’s hand down her body, but let go of her wrist just before they had reached the intended destination. “ _Please_ , Lena.”

Lena took her time, letting her fingers run slowly over quivering skin before they slipped beneath Kara’s waistband and cupped her.

“Is this alright?” Lena asked, resting her hand there while she kissed Kara’s face. “Do you wanna keep going?”

That ripped an unexpected moan right from her throat.

“Shh, Kara.” Lena murmured between kisses, her breath hot at Kara’s ear. She pressed just a little bit more firmly, making Kara whimper. “Everyone will hear…”

Lena.

Lena, this close to where she was nothing but liquid, sweltering heat. It was almost too much. Kara wanted this. She wanted, and wanted, and wanted, but she also felt she couldn’t _breathe_ , freezing and burning up in place at the same time.

“Kara,” Lena said, so softly and reverently it nearly brought her heart to a shuddering halt. “Are you sure? We don’t have to—”

Kara whined louder and squirmed beneath her, signaling her confused need by croaking out a ragged, “No. Please. I want, I _need_ —” She rolled her hips and the rest of her words were lost when Lena dipped a finger between her folds, drawing it up and down, grazing over her clit— just barely, but enough to make her cry out and buck against Lena’s hand reflexively.

“Lena!”

“Like this?” Lena rasped, her skilled fingers making Kara forget her own name.

“ _P-Please_ ,” she stuttered out, not even caring how needy she sounded. “More. Just—”

All she wanted to do for the rest of her life was this. She had had no idea it was possible to feel this good.

Kara clung to Lena as Lena’s fingers moved on her, into her, against her; making her body shiver and shudder and clench. Pleasure sizzled at her fingertips and in her toes, galaxies being born and dying behind her closed eyelids; and she couldn’t even look at Lena, because looking at her would have been too much. Yet, she felt she had to do just that to survive, to stay tethered to her body.

Lena was looking at her, watching her intently as she made her soar higher and higher, flying closer and closer to the hot face of the sun. She made her feel better—feel _more_ —than anyone ever had.

And it was almost too much again; that thought of Lena being her… person, her right fit, her perfect partner in this dance and any that were to follow. Those captivating eyes, the hint of a knowing smile on those kissable lips— lips slightly parted and quivering in time with her nimble fingers’ ministrations.

“You look so pretty like that.” Lena’s fingers curled unexpectedly, and Kara buried her face deep into her neck, letting out a muffled exclamation.

“Breathe, darling.”

Lena’s sultry voice sent another set of shockwaves of pleasure rolling through her, and Kara didn’t know how much longer she could ride them before they would pull her under. She felt her muscles clench, and she whined through Lena’s rhythmic thrusts, clinging to the edge of the abyss, lost somewhere between pleasure and pain.

“It’s okay, you can let go. I got you.”

Kara came, fast and hard, crying out and gasping ‘Lena, Lena, Lena,’ like it was the only thing she knew, the only name she remembered, and it kind of was, because Lena was everything in that moment. Kara wanted to paint the sky full of stars and—

Lena curled those fingers again and sent her into orbit. Deep, black, boundless orbit.

Kara let out a single broken cry, her back arched and her muscles pulling taut for a few searing seconds, barely registering Lena gently coaxing her through, before she seized and shuddered and her whole universe went dark. 

There was a moment of silence, of stillness, after; Lena’s fingers still pressing into her, her palm cradling the shuddering wetness between her legs, and her thumb pressing against the most sensitive part of her. Lena’s breath was hot at her neck, their overheated, sweaty bodies fused together at the seams.

“Sorry,” Lena said, nibbling at Kara’s pulse point. “They definitely heard _that_.”

Kara let out a cross between a laugh and a sigh, shivering delightedly still, and so full of soft languorous satedness that she didn’t care who knew that she was still throbbing where Lena had touched her, stroked her, made her come like never before.

“Was that okay?”

Lena cupped her cheek, smiling when Kara turned to kiss her palm in response.

“That was…” Kara still couldn’t think. She stretched her arms above her, twisting her fingers together, and let out a deep, happy sigh.

“That good, huh?”

“I... I had no idea.” Dropping her arms, Kara breathed through a sudden pang of arousal that buzzed in her clit. “I mean, I’ve touched myself before, but—” She felt herself go beet red at the brazenness of it all and trailed off, leaving the unspoken words floating between them.

“I told you,” Lena murmured, her fingers drawing lazy circles on Kara’s chest. “I aim to please, Kara.”

Kara pressed a kiss to her temple and Lena sighed, trying to push herself up a little, but Kara’s arm over her back stilled her. Still lost in her head, Kara mimicked Lena’s motions, caressing her lower back for a while, before her hand dropped lower, stroking and kneading Lena’s firm butt. She let her hands wander, marvelling at the softness of Lena’s skin, warm velvet under her fingertips, when Lena suddenly jerked forward with a gasp.

“ _Kara_ …”

It took her a moment to connect the dots, her brain still sluggishly delirious, but when she did, a new thought gripped her, sending pleasurable shivers down her spine.

Blushing hard, Kara worried her bottom lip for a moment. But, what if she wasn’t any good at this? What if she did something wrong? What if she hurt Lena?

Kara blew out a breath and looked up at Lena, who had sat up and was straddling her, her knees on either side of Kara’s thighs.

The view was breathtaking, and she didn’t have to think even once to let her hands run up and down Lena’s sides, making her shudder.

“Gods, you’re just so… _soft_.”

“Kara.” Her name sounded breathless, dripping from those beautiful lips. “Could you—? Would you—?” The way Lena spoke—shyly, almost primly, blushing deeply over her cheeks and temples as color rushed up from her neck to her face—made Kara’s chest fill with warmth. It was a different kind than what she felt throbbing anew between her legs. It was tender and gentle, and it calmed her, soothed her, just like the soft, pleading look in Lena’s eyes.

“Yes, I can,” Kara said, feeling emboldened by the way Lena raked her teeth across her bottom lip. “Tell me what you need.”

"Hmm," Lena moaned, rolling her hips and grinding against Kara’s thigh. Kara could feel the heat, the wetness— even through the fabric of Lena’s panties.

“Use your words, Lena?”

“You… _there_.”

Lena wanted her. Lena wanted her like that. Lena wanted her to touch her like she had been touched. The thought alone was enough to almost tip Kara over the edge a second time, right then and there.

“Okay.”

She wanted Lena. And she wanted to hear what Lena sounded like when she came.

Her focus now singular, Kara ran her hand up Lena’s thigh, the other gripping her waist firmly, helping Lena keep upright as she bucked against her. And, when she finally touched Lena where she most wanted, Lena let herself drop forward, hands clutching Kara’s shoulders.

Kara began rubbing Lena gently through her soaked panties, making her gasp and arch back, one hand flying to her mouth to suppress the moan that slipped through regardless.

Kara’s hands stilled. She looked up at Lena; in awe at the wild look in her dark eyes, her pupils overblown.

Wow, she could do _that_?

Lena whined. “Please, Kara, I...”

Kara increased the speed and pressure of her fingers, drawing out some adorable whimpers and a stuttered moan or two. She would have thought this to be awkward, but it wasn’t. She _wanted_ Lena to make _more_ noise; wanted to _hear_ her; hear more of those sweet, sweet sounds that made her blood hum and flash hot in her veins; and Kara’s mouth fell open, watching and listening, before she let out an emphatic response of her own that had Lena moan right back, the sound low and throaty— and shooting straight to Kara’s groin.

“Is that fast enough?” Kara breathed against Lena’s ear, punctuating the question with a nip at her earlobe and a snap of her hips that had Lena buck up into her hand.

“That a yes?”

Panting, Lena shook her head.

Kara took a few deep breaths, breathing in mouthfuls of Lena; the heady combination of lust and adrenaline leaving a strangely pleasant aftertaste on her tongue and making her crave more. So much more. Right this instant.

“Okay, hold on.”

Hands on her waist, she lifted Lena up carefully, then set her down so she was lying on her back, her head resting against the squished mess that was their pillows, or duvets, or both.

Kara slowly crawled on top of Lena—mindful of her injuries and of the overall fragility of a human body trapped under a Kryptonian—making a slow trek up her body, trailing kisses along her path, and exploring the beckoning terrain of Lena’s belly, her chest and neck as she went, her teeth nipping and lips sucking at defenseless pale skin, leaving glowing red marks in their wake.

“Oh—?” Chest rising and falling rapidly, Lena blinked up at her, and Kara kissed her with all her might. Not innocently, or like a tease, but hot and frantic, passionate and demanding. She moved down Lena’s body like she had done it a hundred times before, when it was, in fact, the very first time, but she couldn’t shake the insatiable _hunger_ of wanting to taste Lena properly; couldn’t get the thought of doing it to her— _for_ her—out of her head.

She wanted to make Lena feel good.

“Kara? …Oh, _fuck_ — _yes_ ,” was all Lena managed to say before Kara pulled her panties off and then pressed her mouth between her legs, making anything else Lena might have wanted to say drown, lost forever beneath a sea of exclamations, moans, and endearingly colorful profanity.

It was new and exciting and different. The sounds Lena made—her little gasps, whimpers, and loud moans—and her stuttered breathing had Kara carry on, convincing her that she had to be doing something right to elicit such an enthusiastic response.

Lena was soft where Kara’s lips and tongue touched her; her throbbing, liquid pleasure leaving a curious taste in Kara’s mouth as she licked at her, feeling Lena tremble under her. Like milk and coins, it was slick and thicker than water; just a little salty, perhaps, a bit tart— in the way that butter was tart or a certain kind of apple when you sank your teeth into its juicy flesh.

Little flicks of her tongue at, over, and around the sensitive nub of Lena’s clit seemed to be the best way to go, because it produced a long litany of ‘please-please-please’ in time with Kara’s licks, the word and Lena’s high-pitched, quavering moans running together and making Kara’s ears ring with proud pleasure as Lena’s thighs pressed harder against them.

Breathing through her nose, Kara licked and sucked, lapping up more of that milky musk that clouded her senses, and felt Lena tremble and shudder as she pulsed her tongue in time with her frantic heartbeat.

Lena whimpered and cried out Kara’s name, her remaining inhibitions quite shattered by what was happening between her legs. And, when she came—her hands fisting Kara’s hair and her body arching back in a silent, open-mouthed scream—it was like watching lighting go straight through her in one single, powerful strike, her entire body seizing up and shuddering with her release. Lena whined through it, trembling as Kara had one last taste of her, licking a broad stripe from her entrance up to her clit and staying there, drawing out Lena’s ecstasy for as long as she could.

“Oh… my— _Kara!_ Oh my god.” 

Lena slumped back against the pillows, closing her eyes as she tried to catch her breath. And Kara crawled back up her body to kiss her tenderly, before she snuggled against her side and curled herself around her, a protective palm resting flat on Lena’s belly and feeling her pulse dancing against it.

Listening to Lena’s breathing slowly steadying, and breathing in the smell of sex hanging in the air and settling over the room like stardust—their scents all mixed and mingled together to make this entirely new, and strangely wonderful, one—Kara couldn’t help but feel quite smug— even when she also worried, she might have gone a bit overboard.

“Lena?”

“Mm-hmm?”

She had to know, suddenly antsy and a little overwhelmed with the new situation.

“Are you… was that too much?” Kara asked, brushing sticky hair out of Lena’s face and planting a sweet, concerned kiss on her cheek.

“ _Fine_ ,” Lena rasped, her eyes opening a fraction before she closed them again. “Feels good, need a minute.”

Kara said nothing, just looked at her and smiled. Then she touched Lena’s hand, taking it into her own and bringing it to her mouth to kiss her knuckles.

Lena began to cry softly, and lifted her hands so she could cover her face, pressing kisses to Kara’s palm. She hadn’t let go.

Kara froze, feeling the crease at her brow appear as she watched Lena intently, unsure of what to do or say.

“Are you okay?” She asked again— after a long minute.

Lena nodded, wiping at her face. “Sorry. Yes. Um, ... I think I’m—” She sniffled, and turned towards Kara, smiling through her tears. She reached out and gently stroked her cheek with the side of one finger. “It still doesn’t feel real. You are real, aren’t you? This… is real?”

“Yes,” Kara said, relaxing into the touch. “And I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

“Okay. Good.” Lena buried her face into Kara’s neck and Kara automatically wrapped her arms around her.

Lena pulled back, breaking the embrace, and looked up at her with glistening eyes.

“Because— because you feel like… home, Kara.” She shook her head, letting out a small laugh. “I’m being absolutely and utterly ridiculous right now, aren’t I? I am so sorry, Kara. I just— I immediately…”

Lena’s voice had shifted. It was a soft voice; a voice thick with an accent that momentarily threw Kara more than her words did. Brogue, but a posh-sounding vernacular. Lena spoke with subtle rhoticity, with her Ts and Ds sounding more like CHs and Js.

“I never thought that I'd love anyone so much.”

Astonished and mesmerized, Kara traced the lines of Lena’s face, running a gentle finger from her eyebrow to her cheek, over her nose, and down to her lips— where she replaced it with a sweet kiss.

“I am… _home_?” Kara asked, her voice thick with emotion and threatening to break at the implications. Home was an even bigger word than love, but it didn’t frighten her at all. It made her feel warm and safe and happy, and she wanted that feeling to last for the rest of her life.

Lena had closed her eyes and changed position to go with her movements, and, although she couldn’t be sure, it was as if she were talking to her without so much as another word.

“Lena—” Reaching out to pull Lena back in, she held her close, and Lena settled against her chest with a long, deep sigh.

“You feel like home too.”


	18. The Invite

Untangling herself from Lena proved difficult. For one thing, Lena was too cute—curled up in her arms like a sleeping baby bunny—and, for another, Kara really didn’t want to. She wanted to stay in bed, her arms wrapped around Lena and listening to Lena’s steady heartbeat. She wanted to stay; warm and comfortable under the comforter, the rising sun tickling her face. She wanted to stay, but, even when you were an alien, nature had a tendency to call at the most inconvenient of times, so she didn’t really have a choice.

Careful not to wake Lena, Kara slipped out of bed, put on a shirt and shorts, and padded out into the hallway, where she promptly bumped into Alex.

“Good Morning,” she chirped, ignoring the way her ears heated up at the murderous look her sister was giving her.

“Morning is what’s happening in Metropolis right now, Kara.” Alex gave her a little shove towards the bathroom. “Don’t wake Mom.”

“Okay.” Kara saluted, watching Alex shake her head and then stretch her arms over her head as she went downstairs.

This was regular Alex in the morning. Nothing weird about it, right? With a sigh of relief, Kara closed the bathroom door behind her.

When she went downstairs and into the kitchen a few minutes later—it was still very early, indeed, and showering would have meant running the risk of waking up Eliza—she found Alex and Maggie standing side by side at the sink, washing, chopping, and slicing fruit in silence.

“Good Morning,” Kara said again, aiming the words at Maggie’s back and watching Maggie and her sister exchange a quick look.

“Morning, Little Danvers,” Maggie said, her knife coming to rest on the chopping board briefly, before she went back to cutting apple wedges into thin slices. “Oh, and congrats on the—”

“Mags!”

“Just saying. From the sound of it—”

“Maggie!”

“Anyway. Good for ya, Kara.” Maggie laughed, then rose on her tiptoes to kiss Alex’s cheek. “Babe, you owe me 30 bucks.”

Alex groaned, and Kara nearly dropped the stack of plates she was carrying.

“W-What?” She felt her whole face burn as she carefully smoothed down the placemats and put a plate on them each. “What are you talking about?”

Maggie put her knife down and turned around. Leaning against the counter, she flashed Kara a knowing smirk. “If you make your girl come that hard, you should at least own it, Little Danvers.”

Kara’s jaw dropped. “You… you heard—”

Alex turned the faucet on full blast, water rushing down into the sink before she adjusted the tap, then turned it off completely and wiped her hands on the dish towel.

“Maggie, stop it. Kara—” Kara watched Alex’s shoulders tense up, but her sister didn’t turn around. “Everyone heard. The Haydens? Stone house on the corner? Yeah. _They_ heard.”

“The… The one with the Dobermans?” Kara asked, saying the first thing that popped into her head.

“Oh, _they_ sure heard.” Maggie sniggered, poking Alex in the ribs. “Poor puppers.”

“Margarita!” Alex rounded on her girlfriend, catching the offending hand in hers. “Enough.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Maggie grinned. She kissed the back of Alex’s hand. “You’re grumpy this morning. No fun.” Maggie caught Kara’s eye and gave her a ‘watch this’ look, before she pulled a surprised Alex to her and kissed her passionately, running her hands up her body, then dropping them down to her backside, squeezing Alex’s butt on arrival.

Alex jumped, breaking the kiss. “Maggie!”

“What—?” Maggie was enjoying herself a little too much. “Nothing wrong with some pointers.” She grinned at Kara. “Not that those two need them, I suppose.”

Kara saw her own look of uncomfortable panic mirrored on Alex’s face, before they both looked away.

“Ay, Dios mío!” Maggie complained, laughing as she looked back and forth between them. “You two, lighten up.” She stepped back and reached for the fruit bowl, throwing one last smirk over her shoulder, before she began scraping more fruit into it. “It’s not like your mom is running a convent. She’s a smart woman. She can put two and two together and handle the answer, Alex.”

Alex muttered a reply, but all Kara could make out over the rushing in her ears were the words ‘little sister’— and she was pretty sure she didn’t want to know the rest.

“I just—” She began, focusing all her attention on the cutlery and how to space it out most evenly. “We just— It just happened, okay?” She glanced in Alex’s general direction. “Don't be weird about this? Please, Alex?”

“I’m— I’m not… weird, Kara. It’s—”

“Oh, you’re a little weird, babe,” Maggie interjected, covering the bowl with plastic wrap and putting it in the fridge.

Alex opened her mouth, but before she could say anything more, there were footfalls on the stairs, and Kara’s attention immediately shifted.

Lena.

“So this is where you went.”

Lena leaning against the door frame, watching her. Lena in one of her large shirts with the shirttail hanging almost to her knees. Lena with messy hair, pouty lips, and her bright eyes exclusively trained on her. 

“Come back to bed?” She held out a hand, and Kara sheepishly stumbled forward, eager to take it.

“Go easy on the poor girl, Luthor.” Maggie laughed.

“Whatever do you mean? I don’t think there were any complaints being made to my person last night. Not that I’m aware of.” Lena wasn’t the least bit fazed by Maggie’s teasing tone or looks. Nor was she embarrassed to be standing in the kitchen in nothing but a shirt and—Kara assumed—underwear, her face bare and hair tousled from sleep. “Are there? Complaints?”

Lena turned her full attention back to her, and Kara couldn’t help but smile brightly. “Nope. None.”

“Me neither.”

They smiled at each other.

“That’s so… _disgustingly_ sweet, I don’t even have a comeback.” Maggie grinned at them. “Just… enjoy, I guess?” She shrugged, and reached for the tin box that was home to the good coffee. It was too high up.

“Quietly,” Alex added, carefully avoiding looking at anybody as she leaned over and grabbed the coffee for her girlfriend.

“Promise,” Kara said quickly, slipping her hand into Lena’s. “As a… a… kitchen? … mouse?”

Lena looked at her, a strange expression crossing her features as she tilted her head, but before Kara could fully grasp anything, it was gone again.

“Atta girl. Remember the Dobermans, Kara,” Maggie said, happily heaping spoonfuls of coffee into the coffee maker.

“You could just add hot water to the bag?” Lena suggested. “Might be more efficient that way round.”

Maggie paused, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “Oh, bite me, Luthor.”

“Sorry.” Lena almost sounded it. Almost. “No can do. We’re both taken, Detective.”

That, of all things, made Alex burst into laughter. Loud, slightly unhinged laughter, that had Kara join in almost immediately. This was good, and a little wild, and had Lena just—? Well, she supposed it was true. That was what they were to each other now, wasn’t it?

Still laughing, Kara felt the pang of guilt in her stomach like a sharp plum stone, but pushed the sensation aside and tugged on Lena’s hand instead—to bring her lips within easy reach—and planted a kiss on her.

Alex finally turned around, her eyes doing a quick up-down-up before she asked, “How’s that ankle, Lena?”

“Much better, thank you,” Lena said at once, but Kara felt her weight resting against her. Lena still favored her bad leg. She wasn’t being entirely truthful. And Kara didn’t like it.

“Do you really want to go back to bed?” She asked. “It’s almost time for breakfast. I could make some French toast?”

“No, you won’t,” Alex said before Lena could speak. “You’re not burning the house down on my watch.” She sighed, but made to assemble the needed equipment nonetheless: One wide bowl, one fork, one spatula, and the non-stick frying pan— setting everything on the counter as she continued. “Besides, your French toast is barely edible, Kara. I don’t want to call the poison control hotline either.”

“Oh, har-har.” Kara rolled her eyes. That had been one time. Setting the fire alarm off, not calling the poison hotline, that was. One time when they were kids. And Alex would never let her live it down.

“I— I’ve never had French toast,” Lena said quietly, the tips of her ears slightly pink. “You… you make it with eggs, yes?”

Three pairs of eyes were on Lena as if she had just sprouted a second head, and she froze, one hand gripping the back of a chair, the other squeezing Kara’s and getting a reassuring squeeze back in reply.

“What planet did you grow up on?” Maggie asked, and Kara felt her own face flush. She hastily looked at her feet. “No French toast.” She tsked and opened the fridge to get eggs, milk, and butter. 

“Sit down, kids. French toast it is then,” Alex said, and Kara, Lena, and Maggie sat down at the table.

“Should… Shouldn’t we wait for Eliza?” Lena was fidgeting with her placemat, and Kara gently covered her hand with one of hers, smiling warmly when Lena met her gaze.

“Oh, I can make more when Mom wakes up,” Alex said, adding butter to the pan and turning the heat up. “French toast is quick and dirty. Doesn’t take long.”

Lena nodded, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Alright.”

Eliza had raised them right, and so they made breakfast into the usual production—bread, rolls, sweet and savory spreads, cheese, cereal, granola, fresh fruit and juice, plain yoghurt, crispy bacon and scrambled eggs. Coffee, tea, and chocolate milk. And, of course, French toast.

Kara topped hers with yoghurt, fresh berries, and a drizzle of maple syrup, smiling when Lena copied her actions to a T before taking a tentative bite. Kara watched the most delighted smile bloom on her face at the pure joy of tasting the quick and easy comfort food for what, apparently, was the first time ever in Lena’s life.

“Oh—? This… this is _delicious_?”

Kara smiled even brighter at the incredulous note in Lena’s voice. “Yup.”

It was a weekend of firsts, Kara thought, her heart swelling with love for Lena as she watched her tuck in with unchecked glee.

“You are a strange one, Luthor,” Maggie teased, taking a large bite of her own French toast, which she had topped with a mind-boggling combo of bacon and maple syrup. “No wonder you and Little Danvers play _so_ nicely.”

“Hey!” Kara tried glaring at Maggie, but quickly regretted that choice when Maggie’s eyes narrowed and her lips pulled into a smirk. You didn’t want to be on Maggie Sawyer’s bad side. Not even as a joke. “I’m not… Lena isn’t… We’re not—!”

“Relax,” Maggie said, her smirk morphing into a grin. “You’re just lucky your girlfriend is cute, is all I’m saying.”

Kara couldn’t tell if Maggie was being genuine or mocking them—mocking Lena—and, without meaning to, her hackles were up: back straight, chest puffed out, and one arm slung protectively around Lena’s shoulders.

“Lena is a beautiful, kind-hearted soul,” Kara said, feeling hot steam burn her from within. “And you are being rude.”

“Kara—” Lena’s hand was on her chest, calming and withholding, resting right over where Kara’s heart was picking up speed. She wondered if Lena could feel it thumping.

“Whoa.” Maggie dropped her French toast onto her plate to raise both hands in surrender. “Stand down, Little Danvers. So not what—”

“Kara!” Alex’s warning tone made her even more furious. Was she overreacting? Probably. Did she care? Nope, not one bit. Kara turned her head to glower at her sister. Alex was glaring daggers at her, and holding her spatula like a weapon.

“Kara, _please_. It’s all just… in good fun?” Lena’s voice was terribly soft, poking tiny holes in her—rightful! —indignation, and Kara felt herself deflate slowly, her eyes still focused on Maggie, who had sucked in her bottom lip—no doubt, to keep herself from laughing—but kept her hands up.

“Just joking,” she said, gently. “Poking a bit of harmless fun.” She turned to Lena. “Sorry.”

“That’s quite alright.”

Kara exhaled through her nose. “Okay then.”

Maggie returned to her French toast, Kara blew out another breath, and Lena simply took her face in her hands and kissed her.

The kiss was sweet—maple syrup and cinnamon—and Kara felt herself melt into it, ignoring the conversation Maggie and her sister were having across the kitchen in the background. Lena wasn’t strange. Lena was amazing. She was beautiful. She was perfect.

They finished breakfast without any more… misunderstandings. Eliza joined them eventually, laughing good naturedly at the four of them waiting on her hand and foot.

Leaving the kitchen spick and span, they went back upstairs, and she and Alex faced off in a quick, but intense rock-paper-scissors battle to determine bathroom privileges (Alex and Maggie won).

Back in the bedroom, Lena sank down on the bed with a sigh, pulled her legs up and hugged them to her chest, resting her chin on her knees.

“What’s wrong?” Kara scrambled onto the bed behind her, crawling over pillows and tangled comforters to get closer to Lena. She shimmied closer until she sat right behind her; sat with her knees bent, feet tucked under, and her bottom resting on the comforter.

Lena didn’t answer.

“Something’s wrong. What is it?” Kara tried again, wrapping her arms around Lena from behind and pulling her flush against her. “You can tell me?”

Kara both heard and felt Lena’s heart beat unevenly in her chest, and she nuzzled her neck, feathering kisses to the soft skin at the nape of it.

“It’s Monday,” Lena finally offered, her voice awfully small and her eyes still focused on something outside the window. The lake, probably.

“Yes?”

“Forget it, it’s silly.” Lena let go of her legs, tucking them under, and turned inside Kara’s embrace without fully breaking it, until they faced each other. “A kiss would cheer me up?”

Kara was only too happy to give Lena what she wanted.

She gently kissed her. As the kisses got longer and more intense, she felt that spark again— that spark lighting a fire inside her. It was not wildfire this time, but a controlled burn; a fire ignited intentionally to meet specific emotional needs, such as to reduce the anxious tension she felt radiating off Lena in waves, restore Lena’s happiness, or prepare them both for the return to a reality outside of 4767 Pilot House Road.

She wanted to see Lena’s eyes sparkle with joy once more. Joy, bliss, rapture— and Kara knew just what to do to bring that about.

It was a morning of denial. Of learning what Lena’s body could do for hers, what hers could do for Lena’s. A morning spent in their makeshift bed, Lena’s hair fanned over the pillow. A morning spent entangled and warm, sunlight and kisses on their faces. A morning when love was everything, and they didn’t talk about going back to National City; and Kara didn’t breathe a word about anything that so desperately needed to be said out loud.

They lay, satisfied and sweaty and silent.

“Kara—?”

She looked down at Lena. “Yeah?”

Lena. Her lips full and red. Her cheeks flushed. The skin of her neck and chest pink where Kara’s lips had sucked or her teeth had scraped her, and Kara thought she had never seen anything more beautiful in her life.

“Can I… ask you something?” Lena was gazing up at her with a tiny smile on her face, and reached up to push her hair back, her hand cupping Kara’s cheek.

“Anything.”

“Um.” Lena licked her lips, her gaze flitting away briefly. “It’s about Luthor Corp.”

Kara nodded.

“When Superman put Lex in jail and I had to… take over, I vowed to do better; to make my family’s company a force for good. I’m renaming it L-Corp. I’ve been planning it for months. The ceremony will be next Friday.” Lena’s teeth raked over her bottom lip. “I want you to come with me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” Kara smiled.

“As… my girlfriend.” Lena let out a shaky breath, and Kara watched her lip quiver as she blinked away tears.

Kara cupped her cheeks, kissed her once on those anxious lips to still them. She kissed her forehead, her eyebrows, her eyelids.

“Are you calling me your girlfriend?”

“Yes. I think I am.” Lena took a deep breath as if she were trying to compose herself, then lifted her eyes to hers. “If you wouldn’t mind?” she hedged, pulling back and wiping her eyes with her hand. “I don’t want to assume—”

“Not at all. I’d like that. A lot.”

The way Lena looked at her then, a strange mixture of pride and gratitude on her face, made Kara’s heart soar higher than it ever had. Girlfriend. Not friend who was a girl. Not one of her girlfriends. But girlfriend.

The term settled deep within her, warm and soft.

However, as her heart clenched around the whirlwind of emotions currently swirling in her chest, it also knocked loose something else from her brain. The assignment. The stupid working title Cat had given it.

“Won’t that…,” Kara began slowly, feeling guilt clog her pores and block her airways. “The press might become a little too… interested? That… that doesn’t bother you?”

“Uh-Uh,” Lena murmured. “I don’t care. Let them write.”

Kara swallowed hard. “People will know.”

Oh Rao, help her, she had to say something.

“People will know,” Lena echoed. Rolling, Lena pinned her beneath her and began kissing her again.

Not yet. She would tell her later. Tomorrow. At the ceremony at the latest. Just— she couldn’t do it now. She just couldn’t.

“Okay.”

Before either of them could say or do anything else, there came a knock at the door.

“Uh, don’t know if you guys are decent— And don’t want to know!” Alex's voice was muffled. “Shower’s all yours, by the way. Oh, and Mom says she wants to talk to Lena before we leave. So, err, yeah.” There was a pause. “Hello?”

Both began to laugh. Kara felt her cheeks flood with color.

Lena was hiding her face in the crook of her neck, and Kara grinned into her wild mop of hair.

“Got it, thanks!”

Lena rolled off her. Out in the hallway they heard a door swing and the voices of Alex and a laughing Maggie swallowed up as it closed behind them.

“What—? Why would Eliza want to talk to me?” Lena asked after a minute.

“I don’t know,” Kara said truthfully.

“Did… Did I do something?” Lena said into the duvet, one worried eye blinking up at Kara.

“Nah.” Kara leaned over and kissed her temple. “You’re perfect.”

Lena turned onto her back with a peal of incredulous laughter. “I highly doubt that, Kara.” She shook her head and stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, then looked at her. “But thank you for saying it anyway. If there’s anyone who is perfect, it’s you.”

“Pfft, I’m definitely not.” Kara laughed, feeling her ears grow warm. “You should have a chat with Alex.”

“Well, don’t ever talk to my brother, either.” There was a smile on Lena’s face and her tone was light, but something about her seemed to sag with an unexpected heaviness, gravity pulling her deeper into the mattress. “Or Mother.”

Kara’s heart twinged painfully. If Lena kept going like this, she would need to put a heated pad on the thing. 

“They are wrong!”

Lena laughed hollowly. “Don’t let them hear that.”

She watched Lena rub at her wrist absentmindedly, her eyes dull and her mind miles away, and Kara simply reached for her hands, holding both of Lena’s in one of hers.

“Oh, I think I will. I’m telling them to their faces, if I have to.” She leaned in and touched her lips to the insides of Lena’s wrists, pressing chaste, tender kisses to her pulse points like seals made from candle wax. “I promise, Lena. Now you have someone who will stand up for you, always.”

Lena drew breath like a drowning person and all but flew into her arms, seeking shelter and taking comfort— comfort that Kara was more than ready and willing to give.

“Of course I’ll go with you, Lena,” she whispered into Lena’s ear. “And the world can think whatever it wants. It doesn’t matter.”

“Okay,” Lena breathed.

They lay like that for a while longer, but eventually, it was time to move and do things again. Showering, getting dressed properly, packing their bags. Those kinds of things. Kara pushed her bed back to where it had always been, feeling a little sad to see the empty space between the twin beds. She let her gaze sweep the room— the beds, the rug, the posters on the wall. Lena’s duffle by the bed. Cassiopeia on the pillow.

Sighing, she grabbed her backpack and Lena’s duffle, hefting both on her shoulder, and carried them downstairs. Leaving their bags by the door, she went into the kitchen in search of Lena, but only found Alex and Maggie.

“Lena?” She called.

“Yes?” came Lena’s voice from outside, and Kara quickly crossed the kitchen and stepped outside into the garden— to find Eliza and Lena surrounded by plants, pots, pails, and gardening tools.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Eliza, sporting elbow-length gardening gloves, looked up from repotting an Alstairan Root. “We’re almost done. Lena here has been most helpful.”

Lena smiled and straightened, brushing dirt off her jeans. Her hands were protected by a pair of deep blue gardening gloves with stamped on ladybugs. “Look,” she said, pulling them off and pointing at the neat row of roots in pots. “The pretty one? Eliza gave it to me to keep!” She beamed, and Kara beamed right back— even when, to her, all plants looked the same and she couldn’t, for the life of her, tell which one was supposed to be the ‘pretty’ one.

“Awesome,” she said, kneeling to inspect them for a moment.

“And I’m sure, you’re going to take good care of it,” Eliza said, laying aside a well-worn towel. She pushed to a stand and stripped off her gloves. “Just remember: It likes its water lukewarm and its home sunny.”

“I will,” Lena said, handing her gloves to Eliza and carefully picking up her new plant friend. “He’ll be safe with me.”

She exchanged a look with Eliza, and they both smiled.

“He?” Kara grinned.

Lena’s cheeks colored. “Yes. Maybe,” she said, looking down at the plant in her arms. “Could be a ‘he’?”

“Give him a name?” Eliza suggested. “They like to be addressed by name. Helps them grow.” She winked at Kara.

“I— I have to think about it.”

“You do that, Lena, love.” Eliza smiled at Lena, then turned to Kara. “You all packed? Didn’t forget anything? And please drive carefully, Kara. Roads are bound to be jammed. Are you sure you can’t wait a little longer to head back?”

Kara glanced at Lena, who was biting her lip. “We really should get going soon, Eliza.”

“Alright. Come here, then.” She opened her arms, and Kara accepted the invitation without hesitation, relaxing to the sound of Eliza’s steady heartbeat. “You too, love.” Kara felt Eliza shift, and a moment later Lena had joined the hug, leaving Kara sandwiched between her two homes away from home.

“My girls,” Eliza laughed. “Take care of yourselves. And I’ll see you soon.”

“Thank you for having me, Eliza.” Lena’s breath was warm against Kara’s neck. “And thank you for… Albert.”

Not long after having led Lena back into the house and all five of them having said the rest of their goodbyes in the kitchen, Kara stowed their belongings and a travel cooler on the back seat of the Chevrolet. Lena slid into the passenger seat, one arm securely around Albert the Alstairan Root, her other hand holding one of Eliza’s delicious Danishes.

Kara started the car, backed out the driveway, and followed Pilot House Road in the direction of town. One hand on the steering wheel, she took a bite of her Danish, sugar melting on her tongue and the warm taste of cinnamon making her mouth water and her toes tingle.

Lena nibbled on her own pastry, watching her, and she licked crumbs from her fingertips.

“That was fun?” Kara sat forward, reaching out to squeeze Lena’s knee.

“Mm-hmm.” Lena sighed. “It really was.”

They left Midvale the same way they had come, the radio playing softly and the late afternoon sun warm on their faces, but Kara didn’t miss how quiet Lena had become; didn’t miss the way her face hardened when a text message came through and her fingers tapped an irregular rhythm against the back of her phone case.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes, everything is fine.”

By the time National City’s skyline appeared in front of them, Lena’s hair was up, her face half hidden behind those ridiculously big sunglasses, and her arms wrapped tightly around Albert, the little plant held against her body like a shield.


	19. The Truth (Part One)

She had her driver stop right outside Kara’s building. The smart thing would have been to wait in the car— tinted, five-inch-thick, bulletproof glass protecting her from more than prying eyes or cameras flashing— but, overcome with the need to stretch her legs, Lena exited the company Cadillac regardless, leaning against the smooth black, high-strength aluminum and steels, the mixed materials cool against her lower back as she waited.

She didn’t have to wait long.

However, when Kara appeared on the steps of 16 Hope Street like a solar deity, Lena suddenly wished she had had a moment longer to prepare herself.

“Good evening, gorgeous.” Feeling her heart beat faster, Lena let her eyes roam over Kara’s bare shoulders and down her body, her pale yellow dress fitted to perfection and hugging Kara like liquid sunshine. “You’re beautiful.”

Kara laughed as her face flushed, and Lena loved both the sound and the sight that were ensnaring her senses.

“This isn’t… too much?” Kara twirled slowly on the spot, and Lena realized that the best part of the dress wasn’t the stellar front, but the daring, low-cut back that left next to nothing to anyone’s imagination. Following the criss-cross straps to Kara’s shapely, firm behind, the smooth curve of her buttocks clearly outlined against shiny silk satin fabric, Lena felt her pulse throb between her legs and straightened, gently rubbing her thighs together as she took a few steps forward.

It was far too early in the evening for her to ruin her favorite panties.

“No, it’s… perfect.”

Kara beamed at her over her shoulder. Her hair had been done up in braids which were curled into a bun at the back, and she looked absolutely stunning; like a painter’s pièce de résistance, glowing like the sun and exuding beauty, power, and strength— and, if she hadn’t already, Lena Luthor would have fallen head over heels in one slip of yellow fabric and one dazzling smile in that very moment. 

“You look pretty good too, _Miss Luthor_.” Kara’s eyes on her made her skin hum, but Lena held herself to the spot, keeping exceptionally still.

“Thank you.” She held out a hand. “Might I suggest we get going?”

“Oh, this is going to be so much fun!” Kara whirled back around and all but flew down the steps. “They're calling it ‘the bash of the year’, did you know that?”

Lena smiled at Kara’s adorable enthusiasm.

Yes, in fact, she did know that. She had made sure of it. What was a Luthor if not two steps ahead of the game at all times?

“Well, the evening should certainly exceed expectations,” she said. “I don’t do things by halves.”

“Oh, Lena.” As soon as she was within reach, she was grabbed and hugged, Kara’s strong arms wrapped around her, her hands warm on Lena’s back. “It’s going to be GREAT. You’re going to be GREAT. I know it!”

Kara pulled back slightly and kissed her, and Lena allowed her eyes to flutter shut for just a moment.

“Hi,” Kara said, barely an inch away from her face when Lena opened her eyes again.

She tucked a loose strand of honey hair behind Kara’s ear. “Hi yourself.”

Kara’s eyes dropped to her lips, then went even lower, and Lena’s breath caught when she felt the diamond pendant press gently into her skin under Kara’s inquisitive fingertips.

“Wow.” Kara’s breath was hot on her neck. “Is that…?”

A diamond wreath necklace with an 84-carat, natural-color, Fancy Vivid green diamond pendant. The Green Aurora. An heirloom worth roughly $16.2 million and heavy around her neck. 

“A gift,” she said simply, smiling at Kara’s awed expression. “Goes with these.” Lena turned her head both ways to let the little stud earrings catch the light.

“Wow,” Kara said again, her fingers reaching up to touch, but drawing back at the last second, trailing down Lena’s cheek instead. “They… they do bring out your eyes.” 

Lena let out a soft laugh at the overused line. Oh, how many times had she heard it before? People were quick to comment on her eyes, complimenting them, calling them unique or some other over-the-top modifier— especially when they wanted to get into her pants. Kara was different, though. Her clumsy compliment was just that; a compliment. And Lena loved her for it.

“Thank you, Kara.”

Kara’s smile was infectious. It was a ray of sunshine breaking through the dark cloud that had been the rest of her week, and Lena felt herself relax in Kara’s arms. Suddenly, the renaming gala wasn’t all that important anymore. It could wait. It was her party and her company, and people could bloody wait.

“I really missed you,” Kara said, her grip tightening.

“I missed you too.”

As soon as they had landed in National City, they had both been swept up by work and obligations and had had to make do with phone calls. Some nights they hadn’t even managed that— which was entirely her fault, because meetings ran late or she had to make a call to some business partner overseas in some ridiculous time zone. Midvale seemed years ago, and her bed was as cold and empty as ever. She had almost gotten used to it again.

Another kiss, Kara’s lips soft against her own. Kara, strong enough to carry her 135 lbs up and down flights of stairs and yet, always gentle, so painfully gentle, with her. Lena sighed into the kiss.

“Would you—? I’d really like for you to stay over tonight, Kara.”

Mumbled words, teeth, shared breaths.

Kara broke the kiss and licked her lips. “Over… at your place?”

“Yes?” Lena was very well aware that it wasn’t quite as straightforward as she would have liked it to be. They had only ever met on neutral territory or at Kara’s before, so Kara’s confused expression had every right to be there and to bring out that cute crinkle between her eyes. “If you—”

“I’d love to, Lena.” Another peck, then the crinkle was back. “Wait, I— I don’t have my toothbrush.”

Lena laughed. “We’ll buy you a toothbrush. You can pick a pretty one.”

She reached back, her hands finding both of Kara’s clasped at the small of her back, and pried them loose to hold.

“Lena—?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“Won’t we be late?”

“Oh, fashionably.”

That made Kara giggle, and the sound went straight for Lena’s heart, hitting the panic button as it went through and through. Oh, she was in so deep. Way too deep. Up to her neck deep.

“Let’s go then,” she said, opening the car door for Kara and helping her with the sweep train of her dress when it got caught. It really was silk.

She didn’t let go of Kara’s hand again. Not during the car ride, and not when the old town theatre and the red carpet came into view outside the window. As far as she could tell, there were no crowds, but there were barricades, and banks of photographers.

“Listen, Kara,” she said, her body already aware of the cameras and the people behind them. “The red carpet… it can be intense. Are you sure—?”

“You’re with me, right?” Kara smiled at her, her blue eyes wide and trusting, and Lena felt her heart flutter in her chest— even when her stomach was already in knots.

“Yes. Always.”

“Then I’m sure.”

She twined their fingers together, made her grasp as steady and reassuring as she could, and squeezed Kara’s hand a little harder.

“Ready or not, here we go. Just follow my lead, okay?”

“Okay.”

The car stopped. She gave her hair a last-minute pat, her legs preparing to take the most elegant step out, her eyes and ears waiting for the flash of bulbs, the shouts, the clamor.

A second later, her driver opened the door, and the flashlights exploded as they stepped from the car outside the prestigious venue.

Lena blinked up at the night sky. She heard people shouting her name, vying for her attention, and she hated it. If there was anything she loathed more than the flashes and the shouting and the people grabbing her—if she wasn’t careful and her security detail wasn’t on top of its game—she hadn’t encountered it yet.

Keeping her back straight and a cold smile firmly in place, she ignored them all. She didn’t care if the people behind the cameras were the cream of the crop of National City media or the scum of the swamp. She wouldn’t answer any of their questions— and she sure as hell wouldn’t stop to pose for pictures.

“Miss Luthor! Lena! Over here!” someone yelled.

“Lena! Give us a smile!”

“Luthor! Can I have a comment on Superman’s—”

They were shouting her name, and everything around her was a dizzying blur of colour and flashes. She was used to it. Used to it by now. But still, her eyes burned and her breathing became shallow, and she felt beads of sweat trailing down her spine.

Flash, flash.

Flash, flash, flash.

Kara had grabbed her arm, and she was now guiding her along this red carpet. Thank goodness, it was a short one. Just a couple more strides and then up the steps to the columned entrance. Several couples and small groups of people were making their way up as camera flashes went off all around them.

Beside her, Kara stumbled, and Lena stopped.

Shouts and screams, the demands and questions now hurled toward Kara, followed closely by a brilliant flare of flashbulbs. Blinded by them, Lena felt Kara’s grip tighten, and she pulled her closer, trying to shield her on instinct.

They stood together on the red carpet. A hush fell. It only lasted a second or two.

Kara clung to her arm. She turned her head, hiding her face against her neck, and the wretched crowd screamed as if from one massive throat, the sound clapping over their heads as flash after flash after flash exploded from cameras.

Kara gave a small whimper. “Lena—!”

“I got you. It’s okay,” she whispered at Kara’s ear, feeling Kara’s fingers dig in hard enough to leave a bruise. “Do you trust me?”

Kara nodded.

“Close your eyes and hold on.”

She peeled Kara’s hand away from her arm and slung it around her middle. Her other hand found Kara’s newly abandoned one and gripped it tight, bringing her close.

The vultures loved it. The shouts grew louder. The flashes increased.

Sheltering Kara against her chest, held there by her arm as they maneuvered the rest of the way and up the steps, Lena wanted to scream. She wanted to tell them all to go to hell. They could do it to her, but they would have to go through her to get to Kara.

“Almost there. Almost there,” she murmured, feeling Kara shake in her arms. “Here we go. Big step.”

Doors opened and curtains parted and, finally, the old walls of the theatre granted them peace, and quiet, and shelter.

They stood in the foyer, surrounded by men in dark suits who kept their distance. One of them gave a curt nod, and Lena felt relief rush through her when she recognized him. He was in charge of security at Luthor Corp. She gave him a tight-lipped smile, then turned her attention back to Kara.

“Kara?”

Kara was still leaning on her, her eyes squeezed shut behind her glasses.

Lena rubbed her back gently, feeling clammy skin and goosebumps under her fingertips. “Kara? Can you look at me?”

Heels clacked on the stone floor and, within moments, a familiar voice hit her ears. “Miss Luthor! Oh dear! Are you alright?”

“Yes, thank you, Eve.” Lena did not look up at her assistant, her eyes fixed on Kara as, in a spur of the moment decision, she steered them towards the cloakroom, Eve hot on their heels. Somewhere dark and quiet should do it. “Eve, could you get us a cup of water, please.”

“Yes, of course, Miss Luthor.”

Grateful to find the room empty, Lena shut the door behind them, and gently tried to coax a trembling Kara to sit down on one of the stools, but quickly scrapped that idea when it became clear that Kara would not let go of her for even a second.

Lena hugged her close. “Kara, darling?” She stroked Kara’s neck, her shoulders, her back, letting her fingers draw swirls and circles. “I am so sorry. Are you okay?”

They stood like that for a long moment, Kara shivering in her arms and Lena breathing in the slightly moldy smell of worn coats, aftershave and perfume.

“It’s alright. Just breathe.”

The first time it happened to her, she had only been eleven years old. Eleven years old and terrified, still trying to get used to the whispers and stares that came from being a Luthor and having the audacity to move about in a world that saw her as an unfortunate, mindless pawn at best and yet another despicable Luthor at worst. She’d been home for Christmas break, delighted to see her big brother again after a whole long term apart, and beyond thrilled when Lex had invited her to see his work. Oh, how grown up she had felt, how important, how… loved. Only to have it all come crashing down at her feet, with reporters and paparazzi ambushing her and Lex, shouting all these vile accusations at her brother, at her.

Her heart clenching in her chest, she could still recall Lex’s face when they had gone after her. His furious rage, the broken cameras, and bloody noses. Oh, she had been terrified. But Lex had simply scooped her up and carried her inside, setting her down on a table in his cool, dark lab, and then sat with her until she had calmed down.

People weren’t always nice, he had told her, but people were always stupid— and they didn’t understand. He understood. He alone. And, back then, Lena had still believed every word her big brother told her.

“Lena?”

“Yes, darling?”

“I’m sorry. I just—” Kara looked up at her and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “That… was—? Um—”

“I know.” Lena took in Kara’s flushed face, her red cheeks and watery eyes, and her heart took another hit. This was her fault. She should have known better. “It can be… a lot. I’m sorry. I should have… explained better. Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” Kara cleared her throat. She blinked and drew back, looking around. “Where are we?”

“Cloakroom.”

“Oh… kay.” Kara frowned, and Lena could all but see the wheels turning. It was adorable. She smiled at Kara, but, instead of smiling back, Kara’s eyes went wide again, and she grabbed her arms in alarm. “But, Lena! Your speech?! You have to—! You can’t be—! You’re going to miss it!”

Lena laughed. “Kara. Kara, hey!” 

Kara looked at her.

“Pretty sure they won’t start without me.” She reached for that loose strand of hair again, tucking it behind Kara’s ear. “They kind of… need me for it?”

Kara ducked her head. “Oh. Right.”

Bloody hell, she was cute. How could anyone be this cute and this hot at the same time? It was a conundrum. Lena was smart. She knew she was. But this one? This one she couldn’t quite figure out.

“Will you be okay to go in or should we wait a few more minutes?”

“I’m okay. And I’m really sorry, Lena. I—”

She kissed her softly at first; small, short, searching kisses, looking for the right words.

“You’re here with me tonight, Kara. It means a lot.” She took Kara’s face in both hands and smiled, kissing her across her forehead, her eyes, her nose, her chin, then seeking her lips again, this time, with something more fervent glowing in her chest. “Thank you.”

“Uh-huh.” Kara took a step toward her.

Lena didn’t consciously tell her feet to move, but suddenly, she was in Kara’s arms, kissing her again or, maybe, kissing her still; her arms looped around Kara’s neck and her body pushing against her warm, solid frame. Running her palms over her biceps and down over pecs and abs barely concealed by smooth silk, she felt Kara step in between her legs, and gasped.

She knew they wouldn’t, they couldn’t— but that didn’t stop Lena’s mind from wandering wondrous, exciting places. She let her hands travel down as heat rushed up her neck and flooded her cheeks, trying very hard not to imagine that dreamy yellow silk dress pooled on her bedroom floor.

“Miss Luthor—” Eve Tessmacher’s voice took her both by surprise and by the scruff of her neck, and she and Kara flew apart, each wide-eyed and startled. “Oh, well, I’m sorry—” Eve looked equal parts mortified and apologetic. “I didn’t mean to… interrupt.” She looked down at the glass of water in her hand, holding it out without making eye-contact. “They— they are ready for you, Miss Luthor. I— I’m supposed to tell you, you’re on in twenty minutes.”

Lena let out a silent breath and swallowed, keeping her hands by her sides and firmly out of her face or hair. “Thank you, Eve. I’ll be right out.” She gave her a smile, hoping to communicate some form of non-disclosure agreement with her eyes.

Eve nodded. “I’ll be backstage if you need me, Miss Luthor.”

As Eve’s steps withdrew, she turned back to Kara. Kara, who still had that guilty puppy look on her face and was fiddling with her glasses.

Lena handed her the water, feeling her lip curl into a grin as she lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “Busted. Don’t worry,” she added, watching Kara fidget even more. “Eve is loyal to a fault. She won’t breathe a word of this to anyone.”

Kara took a gulp of water, then handed it back. “Good? That’s good, right?”

“Yes.” Adding her own lipstick stain to the glass, she took a sip. No need to be careful, she would have to make a pit stop and reapply, anyway. And probably fix her hair too. And her face. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Taking Kara by the hand, she opened the door, then paused to tuck a wayward strand of hair back under Kara’s braid. Kara’s hair was incredibly soft—as was her skin—and Lena had to stop herself from running her fingers through the fluffy wisps at the nape of her neck. 

When they entered the auditorium a little while later, Kara’s hand was warm in hers, and, while she would adhere to common rules of conduct and decorum, she wouldn’t hide a single thing. It wasn’t the 1960s, and people could deal.

"Not one other mildly interesting person, I’m afraid," she jested, whispering into Kara’s ear as she let her eyes roam over the assembled guests. National City’s finest. Yet again.

Kara’s wide eyes followed her line of vision, but really, the crowd wasn’t all that awe-inspiring. The same people, the same boring conversations. She had seen and heard it all a million times before. Gowns and polished suits, fountains and pianos, waiters carrying skinny glasses of champagne, decorative flowers, classical music.

“Some of them are… okay,” Kara mumbled, and, as Lena looked up, it was directly into the piercing eyes of one media magnate, Queen of All Media, Catherine ‘Cat’ Grant.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Lena Luthor, the woman of the hour,” Miss Grant said, a flute of champagne in one hand and making an airy gesture with the other.

She was very smartly dressed, her outfit just understated enough to give her an air of effortless elegance and style; and Lena hated to admit it, but something about Cat Grant gave her the heebie-jeebies, her instinct to flatter and please at all costs rearing its ugly head and roaring at the top of its lungs.

“Miss Grant. Pleasure.”

Her back straight and smile firmly in place, Lena allowed herself to be gently woman-handled into _la Bise_ , finding herself automatically swooping left, kissing the air, swooping right, and kissing the air again.

“Oh, it’s just us girls here, Lena. Why not let our hair down. A little.” Cat gave her a wide smile; a smile that was almost knowing— even when it couldn’t have been.

“Thank you for coming, _Cat_.”

“Honey, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Cat took a careful sip of her champagne. Her eyes never left Lena’s face, and Lena felt her neck and face heat up most unfortunately and unflatteringly under the older woman’s undivided attention. “The future is female. We’ve all read the T-shirts. I’m expecting you’ll do us proud tonight.”

Next to her, Kara shifted and made a tiny noise, almost like a cough, and Cat’s eyes swung her way, a puzzled frown edging its way onto her features until it was replaced with wide-eyed, delighted recognition.

“Oh! Kara!” Cat set her drink down on the bar table. “And look at you! Dressed like an adult. That’s promising.” She smiled, and Lena was still parsing whether she had just complimented or insulted Kara, when Kara let go of her arm, clasped her hands in front of her body, and ducked her head in a shy smile.

“Hello, Miss Grant.”

“Enjoying the evening?” Cat’s eyes flickered between them, then settled on Lena. “One of mine. I’m rather proud to say,” she said, a fond smile playing on her lips as she looked back at a blushing Kara. Kara didn’t say anything, but her pink cheeks and flustered smile were answer enough.

Lena chuckled. “I am aware.”

“Though not on duty tonight. My minions are around here somewhere.” Smoothly, Cat reached for a full champagne glass as she made a wide gesture, causing the waiter to break his stride, and the tray he was carrying to slide dangerously as he came to a stop.

Kara made a face, and Lena guessed, whoever was covering the ceremony for CatCo tonight wasn’t exactly a person Kara liked to spend her lunches in the breakroom with. If CatCo even had such a thing. Lena wasn’t sure. She would have to pick Kara up for their next lunch date and find out.

“Excuse me, Miss Grant?” A young, timid looking… girl had materialized at Cat’s shoulder, visibly going through purgatory at having to interrupt their conversation. Personal assistant, Lena thought, looking down and concealing her smirk behind her hand.

“Yes?”

“Um, Dirk Armstrong would very much like to speak with you, Miss Grant. He’s waiting—” 

“Oh, please. That walking personification of white male privilege.” Cat sighed, then looked right at the girl. “Tell him, he can come to me. If he must.”

“Yes, Miss Grant.” The girl hurried away, looking even more troubled than before.

Beside Lena, Kara was faring much worse at suppressing her amusement, but froze when Cat’s gaze swung her way, stammering out a nervous, “Dirk Armstrong. C-Clark Kent doesn’t like him either, does he?”

“No, he does not, Kara. But Clark Kent’s opinion on the matter is, at present, irrelevant.”

“Uh, yes… of course, Miss Grant.”

Laughing, Lena relaxed and accepted a glass of champagne from one of the passing wait staff as she placed her other hand on the small of Kara’s back.

She turned to her to speak, but, at that very moment, caught sight of her own assistant—poor Eve poking her head out from behind the curtain, waving at her from stage left—and Lena bit her lip, pressing her drink on, a momentarily confused, Kara, as she hastened to take her leave to head backstage.

“Excuse me, that’s my cue.”

Kara smiled and gave her the thumbs up. “Knock ‘em dead.”

The stage lights dimmed, then flashed brightly, their brightness warm on Lena’s face as the light moved with her. She took a deep breath and went up to the rostrum.

“Distinguished Guests, Ladies and Gentlemen, I want to thank you all for coming.” She had practiced this speech so many times, she could give it in her sleep and still make every word sound heartfelt and sincere. And she did mean it. Most of it anyway. “My brother hurt a lot of good, innocent people. My family owes a debt—not just to Metropolis—but to every upstanding citizen.” She paused, letting her eyes sweep over the audience and smiling when they found shiny pale yellow in a row of blacks and dark blues. “I intend to pay that debt. By renaming my company L-Corp, we will usher in a new age of cooperation and community. Together, we will chart a brighter future.” A few people clapped, and she paused again, nodding in the general direction of the sound with an even brighter smile on her face. “A new children’s hospital in the heart of National City only marks the beginning of what, I hope—”

The spotlight was hot on her skin, she talked, the audience clapped— and then it was over.

The ability to speak publicly—and to do so with perfect posture and enunciation—had been drilled into her since childhood, but Lena still couldn’t say it was an activity she particularly enjoyed. It came with the job. She excelled at her job. That came with being a Luthor. So, if she had to play dance monkey for the rich and heartless every now and then to wheedle generous donations out of them, then that was exactly what she would do. And she would do it well.

After a moment collecting herself backstage, she rejoined the festivities, finding herself immediately swept away to answer questions or join conversations that she didn’t want to be a part of.

By the time she finally managed to break away, Kara was nowhere to be seen. Lena waded through women wearing evening gowns with long trains and men in perfectly fitted tuxedos, keeping her eyes peeled for her golden ray of sunshine, but found nothing but a sea of sober colors.

She made her way once around the entire auditorium, checked the buffet—confident she’d find her girlfriend right where the tasty snacks were, and wondering why it hadn’t been the first thing she had thought of—but Kara wasn’t happily munching on potstickers or knocking back a flute of juice either, and, by now, tingles of anxiety were starting to needle at her.

A gnawing feeling in her gut, Lena stopped, then decided to go and check the foyer and cloakroom next.

However, before she could put that plan into action, someone grabbed her by the arm, and she whirled around to come face-to-face with none other than Lillian Luthor.

There were two things that stood out about Mother: Her expensive taste in fashion—every piece of clothing in her closet tailored to her highly specific needs and costing more than the average person made in a year—and her eyes. Those cold blue eyes that were just as sharp as her fashion sense, but could cut steel.

Much like an animal trained to fear the crack of the whip, Lena had learned pretty early on to fear Mother’s stern, unforgiving glare. And even now, all grown up and long out of the house, Mother’s searching look went through her like a knife through butter, leaving a tingling trail of foreboding running down her spine. Lillian Luthor wasn’t the kind of mother to hang out and get an ice cream sundae with, but she sure had enough ice to freeze the city over.

“Well, that was… interesting,” she said, pulling Lena into a stiff hug. “You look tired, Lena. Have you been sleeping?”

“What are you doing here, Mother?”

“Oh, you didn’t think I would miss the opportunity to… celebrate this… accomplishment with my daughter? My invitation must have gotten lost in the mail, but, lucky for the both of us, the grapevine still works.”

“I need to hire a gardener, apparently.” Crossing her arms, she took a step back. “What do you want?”

“I came here, because I wanted to let you know that I forgive you. That I still love you.”

Mother’s smile was frosty and insincere, and Lena laughed hollowly.

It was a trap. A clever snare laid out and covered in dulcet tones and concerned looks for her to get caught in. But Lena wouldn’t play. Not tonight. Whatever had rubbed Mother the wrong way this time, she would come out with it sooner rather than later anyway— without her having to go to preemptive confession and digging a six-feet deep hole for herself. Lena was done digging. And she was done graveling in the dirt at Mothers feet, begging for forgiveness, acceptance, or love.

“The only time you tell me you love me is when you need something from me. What is it?”

Mother’s eyes widened. “This isn’t about me, Lena, dear.”

“Well, that’s new.” Lena felt her own fingers dig into her arm and had to make a conscious decision to relax and unclench her jaw.

“Believe me or not, I only have your best interests at heart—” Lena scoffed— “and right now, as your mother, I am afraid, it is my responsibility to protect you. Even from yourself.”

Lena refrained from rolling her eyes, but only just. What was it now? And couldn’t it have waited until morning? “I am not a child, Mother.”

“You are twenty-two years old, Lena. That is a child. And until you learn to conduct yourself in a manner that—”

“Are you done?” Boldly cutting in on what would have been another famous tirade, she lifted her chin and matched Mother’s glare, even as she felt herself begin to sweat, the fabric of her dress clinging to her back like a second skin.

Mother wasn’t impressed. “If you’re so grown-up, act like it,” she said sternly, taking two steps toward her, and Lena held her breath, rocking back on her heels. She half expected Mother to grab her again or, perhaps, slap her in the face, and forgot, for a wild second, that she wasn’t four years old anymore and that they were currently in a very public place, surrounded by people. Important, influential people.

“And what, Mother, could you possibly mean by that?” Lena forced herself to keep her head up and her hands away from her forehead and out of her hair. Mother already read her like an open book. She didn’t have to provide her with even more of a target.

“ _Her_.” Mother’s lips curled around the word, her expression making nonsense of her aloof mask and showing the deep displeasure and, possibly, disgust behind it. She didn’t elaborate, point a finger, or jerk her head, and yet, Lena knew. Knew instantly.

A beat of silence.

“And why? Oh, do tell.”

Mother’s eyes narrowed, and Lena felt little jolts of electricity go through her. Everything from her racing heart to her clammy palms was screaming at her to bow her head and concede the field, but, with each heartbeat, red-hot anger pounded in her like a drumbeat, fury twisting inside her chest, and, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow, she took a step towards icy blue, unafraid and without blinking.

This was no longer about her, this was about Kara. And Mother would get to Kara over her cold and lifeless body.

“Well, for one thing, I don’t like the idea of her around my daughter.”

Oh, that tone. That smile. The calculating twinkle in her eyes. It made things so much worse, and Lena felt herself burn and tremble with her anger. It burned through her, shook her, made her hands clench into fists at her sides and her feet take another foolish step— and she opened her mouth before she could think things through.

“Well, too bad! She’s my _girlfriend_. And there’s nothing you can do about it!”

She was breathing hard, searching Mother’s face for a reaction she knew deep down wouldn’t come. Mother never lost her temper publicly. That only ever happened behind closed doors.

Instead of drawing down in anger, however, Mother’s eyebrows drew together in concern. For a second, she looked so despondent, almost worried sick for or about something or other, that it completely threw Lena off her game. What—?

“Oh, but it’s not _real_ , dear. You know that, right?” Mother asked, her voice dripping with solicitude. “Your _friend_ is a reporter. She is doing her _job_.”

Confused, Lena opened her mouth, but Mother would not let her speak.

“They’re printing an article in that penny-dreadful she works for. You’re not her girlfriend, Lena, you’re not even her friend. To that girl, you’re _nothing_. Nothing more than a story. A story for—” She snapped her fingers— “Clicks.”

Lena turned her face away. She couldn’t believe her ears, wouldn’t believe them. She crossed her arms over her chest and twisted her body away— as if, by stepping sideways and presenting Mother with nothing but her stiff shoulder, her nonsensical, hurtful words would drip right off and evaporate into nothing.

“See, I know you’re lying.”

Even as Lena said it, something dark and bitter in the depths of her mind began whispering in her ear, and she shook her head involuntarily.

“And how would you know that?”

Anxiety, bubbling up inside her like sticky soda and freezing up her brain, had her momentarily stumped for an answer, so when it finally came, it came out something high-pitched and shaky that had nothing to do with her actual voice.

“Because you told me you loved me! And we both know that’s not true.”

Mother snapped her tongue. “Oh, don’t be overly dramatic. I do love you, Lena. Which is why you need to listen now.”

Lena didn’t want to listen. She wanted to turn on her heels and run. She wanted to find Kara, bury her face in her shoulder, and cry.

“You know we have people for things like this, yes? Good, reliable people?”

Mother was relentless. Thinking of Mother’s slimy, spying goons, Lena pulled a face.

“Well then,” Mother said. “There you have it.”

“No.” Her voice nearly broke on the simple sound, and Lena bit her lip.

“Lena.” Mother let out a harsh breath. “Do you truly believe I would waste my time flying across the country, if it weren’t true?”

She didn’t know what to believe anymore. It wasn’t unlike Mother to sabotage her—her career or her personal relationships—if she thought Lena had set a toe too far out of line, but something, something Mother had said, had taken root in her brain and was festering nonetheless, poisoning her thoughts and sending them spiraling in a direction she did not like.

What if… What if Mother wasn’t lying?

Shutting her eyes against the tension headache that was building behind them, Lena chose to ignore most of Mother’s question and all its implications. “Why did you?”

“Because you, my dear daughter, are hard to get a hold of these days. Is your phone broken?”

Lena looked into Mother’s perfectly made-up face. She was the kind of woman whose gaze turned capable hands into fingers and thumbs; the kind of woman who, with one sharp look or displeased frown, had you stumble over your feet and your words. She used your every weakness against you, if it suited her. But Lillian Luthor would not get on her private jet and crash a party just to be mean for the sake of her personal entertainment. She would not have confronted her like this, unless her information was absolutely airtight. She would not have followed her to National City looking for a fight— not unless she knew it was a fight she would win.

“Well, I’m sorry, Mother,” Lena spat, forcing the words out with her next exhale. “But you’re— Excuse me, I have to—” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I have to go find Kara.”

Mother’s eyes closed for a second, before she drew herself up to her full height. She wasn’t that tall—not even in her murderous heels—but still taller than Lena; and she could make herself into a giant. A mean, perfidious, bloody-minded—

“You can't be serious,” she said flatly. “Don’t think I don’t recognize this… stunt for what it is, Lena. I’ve indulged your childish rebellion long enough. I thought we were over this after…What was her name again? Your ‘friend’—” She made air quotes around the word with the pitch of her voice— “from school. Lovely girl, really. Good family. Such a shame. Anyway. Honestly, Lena—” 

Bringing up Andrea was low. Even for Mother.

Lena bit her lip to keep it from trembling. She was losing her footing—which was, no doubt, just what Mother had intended—and yet, she felt utterly helpless to do anything about it as her mind struggled to keep a tight lid on that box in the back of her mind. The box labeled ‘Andrea’. No, she would not go there. Not here, not now. She couldn’t.

“What will our shareholders think? The world? Have you thought about that? You are… too old for such childish antics. And, besides, —” Mother paused and rubbed her temples. A rare sign of emotion that gave Lena an opening.

“It’s my life! I can… I _will_ … love whomever I want!”

“Keep your voice down.” The low warning hit her square in the chest, and Lena cowered from it, retreating, deflating, years of proper… _education_ burning in her cheeks and prickling hot at the nape of her neck as she brought her hands forward to clasp them in front of her body, looking down to study the polished toes of her shoes.

“Of course, it is your life, Lena,” Mother said, her voice cold. “But how can you not see it? How can you be so naive? I raised you to be better than this. I raised you to be a Luthor.” Her eyes flashed darkly. “But I see now, all my efforts might have been in vain.”

“I— I don’t—” Lena stammered, feeling her heart stutter and tears sting her eyes.

“Oh. You’re choosing not to see it? Is that it? Or are you truly this gullible?” Mother snapped, and Lena hung her head.

“She… she would have told me. Kara would have—” Her voice sounded pathetically small, even to her own ears.

“Well, she certainly hasn’t told you about this,” Mother said impatiently. “So, don’t you have to ask yourself what else she is not telling you? Think, Lena, think!”

Lena rolled her eyes heavenward to keep from crying.

“She does not love you,” Mother said witheringly. “She is using you, using the Luthor name.”

“But— no! That’s not—! Kara wouldn’t!”

Mother’s ‘ _oh, Lena_ ’ look went straight through her like a burning bullet.

“I am trying to protect you, Lena. Remember what happened with… right— _Andrea_ , wasn’t it? We don’t want that again, now, do we?” Mother’s soft voice was more deadly than her anger, and it burned Lena’s skin right off her flesh, leaving her raw and vulnerable. “All that youthful indiscretion is neither here nor there at this point, but you’ll have a hard time explaining that article away, once it goes to print, dear. Believe me. You need me, Lena.”

Neither here nor there. Lena could barely breathe. Andrea wasn’t ‘neither here nor there’. And Kara— Kara wasn’t a liar. Kara wouldn’t do this to her. Or, would she?

Or… had she?

Fighting tears, Lena willed her mind to work with her, thinking about all that she knew about Kara. Kind, caring, wonderful Kara. Kara, who liked bad movies, and potstickers, and hot chocolate. Kara, who had been brought up in that warm, sunlit house by the sea; brought up by a mother who loved and supported her daughters with a fierceness Lena only knew from her books and hazy memories. Kara, who loved her family with all her heart and still slept with a stuffed animal by her side. Kara, who looked at her with that very same love in her eyes. Kara— 

She clenched her teeth together so hard she feared they'd crack. She just… She just had to white-knuckle her way through this. Stick to the facts. Maybe, occasionally, venture into the territory of reasonable speculation. 

Kara was inexperienced, but a quick study. Kara had never brought someone home to meet her family before. Kara was adopted. Kara was, in all likelihood, at least part alien.

Lena didn’t share her family’s beliefs and values. She wasn’t repulsed by that fact. On the contrary, she found herself quite fascinated by it, unable to escape the pull of the unknown, the strange, the extraterrestrial of it all. Part of her finally understood her brother’s fascination with Superman, at least before Lex went and made himself go mad over his unhealthy obsession.

It wasn’t uncommon for unaccompanied, underage alien refugees to end up in the system or to be adopted out. Eliza sure had the right background.

Of course, none of it actually mattered. Lena cared about _Kara_. Not about her… pedigree. And she knew what it was like to stick out like a sore thumb; knew what it was like not to belong; knew what it took to share a carefully hidden and protected part of yourself with someone else.

If Kara wasn’t ready, then she wasn’t ready.

But... what if she was actually missing the point? What if Kara—being a reporter _and_ an alien—had been specifically chosen to undertake the very task Mother claimed she had? What if an alien… _seducing_ Lex Luthor’s gullible kid sister to make her look like a fool was all there was to it?

Thinking about salacious headlines and lurid speculation and humiliation, Lena gasped and, tasting bile, covered her mouth with her hand, pressing her fingers to her lips as the nausea flipped her stomach over. 

“Good girl.” Lips quirked in a crooked smile, Mother was watching her, and Lena stiffened, feeling her skin pull taut. “Took you long enough.”

She was calm, aloof even, but there was sordid glee in those horrible eyes, and Lena wanted to push at her.

But she couldn’t move.

“You win, okay?! You win, Mother. Now please, _please_ —” She tried to push more words past the tears, past the heavy knot in her throat, but all that came out were strangled noises, and before she had realized what was happening, a strong arm in an elbow-length glove had reached across the distance and she was grabbed hard and yanked forward: stumbling, walking, forced into step beside Mother.

“Come now, come. We don’t want to make a scene.”

Mother’s grip was painful on her arm, and her sobs were too loud, and Lena bowed her head as the tears ran down her face, sharp and salty.

“Not to worry, dear. All that can be fixed,” Mother cooed, steering her firmly away from curious eyes and ears. “Step down from L... Luthor-Corp. Until— until this blows over. I’m sure we can find you… something to do until all of this… goes away.”

Lena wanted to scream.

“Why don’t you come back to Metropolis with me? You could come back to headquarters,” Mother suggested. Though, her suggestions were never that. “And, from what I hear, there’s still a fine young gentleman waiting for you back home? I’m sure he’d take you back. The poor shmuck _proposed_ , after all. Oh, ... well.” Mother let go of her arm and lifted her chin, forcing her to meet her gaze: diamond sharp, crystal-clear, and slicing her into a million pieces. “Now, compose yourself, girl!”

Her words burned and stung, but Lena didn’t have enough energy left to fight back. She dimly wondered how Mother knew about all that—about Jack, and how they had left things—but she had long since accepted that Lillian Luthor was privy to all the intimate details of her life— if and whenever she wanted to be. There was no use in asking how, or why, or by what right.

“I’ll give you… a few days, but I’m expecting you back in Metropolis within the week, Lena.”

Her head spinning and chest aching, Lena nodded weakly. She wiped her tears on the back of her hand and tried to compose herself, but couldn’t help the continuing sniffling and hiccupping, her face burning hot with shame as anger and impotence turned sour in her stomach.

Mother held out a handkerchief. Her stare was unflinching. “Are we clear?”

Lena sniffled and mopped at her eyes, the handkerchief cool and luxuriously soft against her flushed face. She recognized the scent: _Chanel No. 5 Grand Extrait_ — and, immediately, felt herself shrink, and shrink, and shrink— until she was but a fraction of her size and age, and utterly, inconsolably sorry and terrified.

“Understood.”

Mother left; left without another word; left her standing there, cold and shivering, and Lena looked around blindly as panic tilted her vision. She somehow made it to the ladies' room and held onto cool porcelain for dear life. Dear life, and the duration of a couple deep breaths.

“ _Fuck!_ ”

She finally let go, struggled for air, and doubled her fists, clenching them until her nails dug into the palms of her hands. She barely noticed. The only thing she was really aware of, was the sound of her heart throbbing and thumping, and the blood rushing in her ears. It wasn’t until her vision cleared, and she looked at herself in the mirror, that she became aware that she had been biting her lip so badly it was bleeding.

Dabbing at it with Mother’s handkerchief, Lena stared herself down in the mirror.

What a mess. What a complete and utter mess.

Running the cold water and splashing her face, she almost wished to be fifteen again. Fifteen and wanting to be just like the tough ‘dames’ from Andrea’s stylish film noir collection. For a non-smoking pacifist, she sure had soaked up those cynical characters and grim tales surprisingly fast and well— and her lungs and liver had risen to the challenge.

She hadn’t touched a single cigarette in years, but right now Lena Luthor would have killed for just one smoke outside, just this once, because it was that kind of night and she was in the right kind of headspace, somewhere between bitterly nostalgic and furiously desperate.

“When the horse throws you…,” she muttered, twisting the faucet off, and lifted her head, the cold water running down her neck and over her necklace. Lena dried her face and surveyed the damage. Bloody lip, Puffy eyes. Nothing that make-up and alcohol wouldn’t fix.

She smoothed down her dress, set her chin, and salvaged what she could of her composure and dignity, before fishing a small pouch from her bra and tipping its contents into her palm. She would fix her face and then let a strong drink fix everything else.

Despite her best efforts, her legs were still wobbly when she returned to the auditorium and, casting her eyes about the room, she saw her whole life as if she had already lived it: an endless parade of gowns and tuxedos, narrow people and mind-numbing conversations. A lifetime of fake compliments and unwelcome touches.

Feeling pressure behind her eyes and acid in her stomach, Lena went straight for the bar, ordering a glass of scotch and craving the whole bottle. 

The first sip of rich golden liquid left a malty taste in her mouth. The second and third tasted like matchsticks and dried cherries. The fourth was sexy, sassy and spicy— feeling just like tanned skin and gorgeous curves under her fingertips. And the fifth turned into a bright smile in the Argentinian sun: full red lips and twinkling blue eyes.

“Lena—?”

She couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through her body at hearing her voice and, against her better judgement and protesting heart, she had to turn around and look; look at that fabulous gown, all flowing and shiny, and at the beautiful girl wearing it.

Kara looked at her with those innocent blue eyes, and Lena felt trapped, locked into this girl’s life, into her secret, into her lies that had created some false intimacy between them. False intimacy that pierced her lungs and stung her eyes.

“Hey, are you okay? I, uh—” Kara broke off, shifting from one foot to the other, and Lena’s drink turned bitter on her tongue.

Supernova. Her beautiful sun had gone dark, its light eclipsed by lies and deceit.

She looked at Kara, and her cold fury burned with dangerous intensity. You never had to worry about fireworks and showers of red-hot sparks with her; it was this bitterly cold, slow-burning rage that would be their undoing. It would ruin them both.

She lowered her glass, looking directly into Kara’s eyes and willing herself to feel absolutely nothing, before she opened her mouth to speak.

“Is it true?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm nominating Mama Luthor for a parenting Razzie. Leaving you with this nice cliffhanger, part one out of two, because this chapter got too freaking long.
> 
> Thoughts?


	20. The Truth (Part Two)

“Is… is what true? Lena, what… what happened?”

Looking at Kara was like looking directly into the sun. It hurt. Her eyes burned, her face flushed hot, but Lena refused to look away first.

“Why, Kara, your article, of course,” she said, fake toasting Kara and her shocked expression. “How is that coming along? You all good or… I don’t know, need some more… help? A quote, perhaps?”

“What… what are you talking about?” Eyes wide and impossibly blue, Kara looked at her, then grasped for her hand, but Lena took a step back, the bittersweet echo of cinnamon Danish crumbling in her mouth. How could it all have been a lie? Every word, every touch, every damn promise? All of it, nothing but lies— and she had fallen for every last one of them. Again. “How did you—? Oh, Lena. No.” Kara let her hand drop, her arms hanging uselessly at her sides. “I— I meant to tell you. I should have… I’m so sorry.”

Lena felt her jaw go slack. There it was then. Mother was right— and this was a nightmare.

“So, it is true then.”

The auditorium seemed to still around them. Lena didn’t care that there were other people here; other people who could see and hear things that weren’t meant for their eyes and ears. Her reputation was already in ruins—as was her life—and all she cared about right now was glaring daggers at that angelic face as it fell.

“No! Yes. But _no_ , it’s not… like that, Lena! I—”

“Oh, so you’re not writing… anything?”

“I… I was… _supposed to_ , but—”

Kara was looking at her with an expression she had never seen before, raw and beseeching, but the deafening roar of her own heartbeat in her ears made it hard to think about anything other than the horrible, sinking feeling that permeated throughout her entire body, turning it cold from the inside out.

“So, this—” She gestured between herself and Kara— “is a _job_. Come on, just say it, Kara.”

There was a pause, a long moment of heavy silence.

When Kara’s voice emerged again, it did so as a whisper. “It… It kind of started that way, but—”

“Excuse me?”

“I meant, uh, I’m sorry, I’m not explaining this right. I got an assignment at work, yes, and that’s why, why I went to the Port that night, but—”

Lena heard the words, how they twisted and regrouped in the air. And she had already heard enough. She swallowed the last of her drink, shook her head a little, and looked right at Kara again. Her heart just couldn’t take any more lies. Not tonight.

“You don’t need to explain anything, Kara. You played me. Congrats.”

“No, Lena—!”

“I hope it was worth it.” Lena left her empty glass and, steeling herself against the throbbing ache in her chest, made to walk briskly past and away, but Kara’s soft voice looped itself around her like soft rope, pulling her back and keeping her tied to the spot.

“Lena, _please_.” Kara’s emotions were right at the surface, pain and anguish in the crease of her lovely brow and the down-curve of her quivering lips, but Lena knew better than to trust crocodile tears. “Please, let me explain. I _promise,_ I—”

“No. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to promise me anything ever again, Kara.”

As if on cue, tears spilled over and trailed down pale cheeks. She was good; oh, so good.

Kara’s eyes were a deep pool of restless blue, an ocean of hopeless grief. As Lena looked into them she knew, all the beauty in the universe still couldn’t hope to compete, and she had to look away, and fast, before they pulled her under for good.

“Please. I don’t want to lose you, Lena!”

Laughter was the farthest thing from her mind right now, but a small laugh escaped her lips nonetheless. “You can’t lose something you never had.”

Even as she turned away, there was this little voice in her head. This little pesky voice that wondered if she should stay and hear Kara out. This little voice that reminded her that Mother couldn’t be trusted, no matter the circumstances. This little voice that felt an awful, unbearable lot like hope.

“Lena.”

Kara said her name, just her name, a desperate hand flying out to hold her back but stopping just shy of making actual contact. She didn’t touch Lena’s arm and yet, a scream from deep within clawed its way up, and Lena had to clench her teeth hard to trap it inside her mouth.

“Don’t,” she hissed. She was tired, she was angry, she was exhausted. Her fists clenched and her teeth locked once the sound was out.

“I know I should have told you,” Kara said. “I never meant to—”

“You used me for a story, Kara. At Least have the… decency to—” She broke off, took one look at Kara’s tear-streaked face, and held up a hand to block the inevitable reply. She _really_ had heard enough. What was done was done; there was no point left to be argued, no point left to anything at all, honestly, and she just wanted to go home. “No, actually. Just leave me alone. _No_.”

No, it held a hint of metal that word. Kara looked at her, an expression of wide-eyed dejection on her face, and, selfishly, Lena didn’t want Kara to ever look at her again. 

“O-okay.” Kara’s breathing hitched, and Lena felt her knees grow weak at the sound, a sickening blur of emotions swirling around in her stomach as she strode past her without so much as a final glance, her heels clicking out a fast rhythm on the polished floor. “I’m… really sorry.”

Kara’s unconditional surrender hit its mark. Being shot with your face to the enemy was one thing; being shot in the back implied that you were the one running away—which, in all fairness, she probably was—and Lena didn’t like it. Part of her wanted to fight—even when she wasn’t sure what for anymore. Part of her wanted Kara to fight too. To fight harder. But why would she? Why would either of them?

Shame and anger burned just under her skin, and a deep emptiness filled her heart as she forced herself to remember that it wasn’t real. None of it was real. None of it had ever been real. And why fight for something that didn’t exist in the first place?

The crowds parted. Or maybe, she was the one parting them as she rushed towards the foyer. It was her party and, if she wasn’t allowed to cry, she could at least leave. There was nothing left to celebrate anyway. Mother had made that pretty clear.

Lena kept it together long enough to instruct Eve on when and how to wrap up the party. She kept it together for a brief talk to security, and for the drive home, even asking her driver to make a quick stop at a dingy-looking corner store, where she stocked up on cheap booze and, on instinct, also added Vogue cigarettes and a pack of gum to her ridiculous impulse buy.

Once she was safely behind closed doors, alone in the dark, her heels were kicked off and her hands flew into her hair, impatiently tugging at the complicated up-do, pulling out pins upon stupid pins and dropping them as she went, not caring that some of her hair went right with them.

She switched on the lights and, slightly blinded and blinking, stumbled into her living space, almost tripping over the hem of her, now much too-long, dress while her hands were busy trying to open the clasp of the heavy monstrosity around her neck. She couldn’t quite get it to budge, the delicate bits slippery under her fingers; and her chest went tight with furious, pointless, sweaty panic that had her heart hammer hard and her dress cling to her body like a plethora of sticky hands, as beads of sweat ran down her spine.

She blew out her cheeks, carefully avoiding her reflection in the full-length mirror in the bedroom, and tried again and again, her bare feet growing cold from her pacing laps on freezing floors and expensive rugs that did nothing to help the cold. The damn cold oozed from every floorboard, every tile, every thick wall around her, and crawled up her legs.

The clasp finally gave way without breaking, and Lena was finally free to drop her father’s parting gift on her vanity, returning to the living space and reaching for the decanter of her favorite scotch before she even knew what her trembling hands were doing.

Shaking her head at herself and setting her jaw, she set it back down. She wasn’t religious, how could she have been, but even god wouldn’t have been powerful enough to save her, if she raced down memory lane at the murderous velocity she had every intention of travelling at tonight. She couldn’t afford getting drunk on Van Horne's finest. Money wasn’t an issue, and neither was stock, but Lena didn’t trust her drunk self enough to even dare pour one finger's worth of scotch over two perfect ice cubes. One taste of that warm, malty richness on her tongue and she would break, she would crumble and cave, and call numbers that shouldn’t even have been in her phone in the first place, but that—unfortunately—were. No, she couldn’t risk it. She wouldn’t risk it. No memory lane for her tonight. She wouldn’t even set foot in the same neighbourhood.

Instead she went to retrieve the paper bag, tipping its clinking contents out onto her pristine couch. Vodka, tequila, Irish beer, German strawberry wine, and something violently pink and, undoubtedly, deadly sweet in a big-bellied bottle. It would hurt both her teeth and her head, Lena was sure, and probably kill her dignity too—whatever was left of it, anyway—but something about the frilly design had called out to her at the store, so here the disgusting thing sat, and Lena reached for it first, twisting off the silver cap, and surprised to find the drink fizzing up and spilling all over her dress and the couch. It was lukewarm, it was pink, and it was sticky— and Lena was royally pissed.

Suppressing the urge to throw it at the wall, she set the bottle down on the floor and got to her feet, making a face at the intolerable stickiness of it all and, again, fighting the childish impulse to kick the bottle right across the floor.

She’d clean this up in the morning. Or pay someone more knowledgeable in the art of removing sticky stains to do it for her. Crossing her arms over her chest, Lena wavered for a moment, swaying slightly where she stood. Then she picked up the offending bottle, took a stubborn swig—yes, absolutely disgusting—and padded towards the bathroom, her feet making ridiculous noises and sticking to the floor on every other step or so, like she was wearing a pair of flip flops.

Lena turned the faucet, adjusted the temperature to her liking, then sank down on the edge of the bathtub, glancing down at the invisible trail of sticky she had left in her wake. She took another swig of that sweet, bubbly nonsense that tasted like cotton candy and candy canes with a healthy dose of cough syrup added into the mix, then put the bottle down and pulled a leg across her knee, peering down at the sole of her foot, then alternating to see the other one.

Well, definitely still sticky. Sticky all over and gross.

She got to her feet, twisted her body and, gently tugging on the fabric, reached back for the zipper of her dress, letting it slip from her shoulders and tossing it into the laundry basket with a long sigh. Her dress was silk. She might as well just toss it right into the trash. There was no coming back from any of this for silk.

Such a waste. Just like the expensive underwear that no pair of blue eyes would ever get to see. Just like the whole evening. Just like, well, everything.

She kept her underwear on as she sat down again, staring down at the water as it slowly filled the tub. She sipped at her revolting purchase, wishing she had brought one or two of the other bottles, or even just the smokes, in here with her, so she didn’t have to get up again to get them. Getting steaming drunk seemed like an excellent plan, and she couldn’t do that on pink fairy juice alone. If she got beautifully hammered, she would curse herself in the morning for sure, but, at least then, she wouldn’t have to hear her voice in her head, telling her that all her worst fears had come to pass yet again. She wouldn’t have to think about how Kara’s voice had cracked or about how her tears might not have been the reptilian kind after all. She wouldn’t be left to toss and turn and agonize all night— and that alone would be worth whatever reckoning awaited her in the morning.

She watched the tap running, listened to the water. The tears that had been threatening to come since she had left… the party stung her eyes, and she knocked back more of her drink with a shudder, blinking furiously and getting up to pour herself a different drink; something else, something stronger, to numb her thoughts and swirl around in her mouth until she would forget all about a certain someone and how she tasted in the inky dark of night.

A sharp sting behind her eyes made her lip curl. She knew what it meant, but, right now, Lena Luthor couldn’t care less.

She opened tequila, vodka, and wine, sniffed at the bottles, got a wine glass, and filled it to the brim with the beverage of her choice, then rummaged for a lighter, and returned to the bathroom with her drink and the cigarettes in hand, dropping her panties on the way and unclasping her bra with her free hand.

Feet in the water, she sat on the edge once more, feeling herself shudder as her body grew accustomed to the sudden change in temperature. She lit a cigarette, bent back to let the pack and lighter slide into the sink, and took a long drag. It tasted like crap. Exactly like she remembered it. Bitter on her tongue and fuzzy in her head, the smoke clouding her senses and rubbing her lungs the wrong way, making her cough involuntarily.

Holding the cigarette up, Lena slowly sank down into the tub until she was fully submerged, then shut off the water and leaned back, the warm water sloshing all around her with the movement and spilling over quite a bit.

Lena didn’t care. She just made sure her drink was safe and her cigarette stayed lit, alternating between alcohol and nicotine until her blood hummed and she felt herself buzz with nothing but vacuous weightlessness.

So much for opening herself up, so much for second chances. She would kill Andrea, and Mother, and—

Lena bit her lip, feeling the dreaded tears breaking through her defenses and rolling down her cheeks. She didn’t want to cry. She was so sick of crying. Annoyed with herself, she wiped at them, but the helpless, frustrated feeling remained. She just let it be, concentrating on the warmth of the water on her skin and the bitter burn of agave and alcohol at the back of her throat, instead.

Lena closed her eyes, just for a moment, and there was Kara. Kara’s strong arms wrapping around her body and lifting her like she was some sort of intricate origami crane, practically weightless and somehow, inexplicably, precious. There was Kara’s warmth, her breath tickling Lena’s neck. There was that scent that she had no words for, but that would forever stay linked to Kara and to kissing her in that soft bed, in the warm house where the pipes made noises at night and the air always tasted a bit salty.

Tasting a different kind of salt on her lips, Lena’s eyes flew open, and she was furious to discover that—despite her best efforts—she was sobbing. Ugly, rumbling sobs that grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her hard, scorching her lungs and yelling in her face until she was bent double and struggling for air.

Miss Pure of Heart, her arse, Lena thought bitterly. Kind and sweet and fiercely loyal, her mother and sister had said— and who was she to doubt them? Eliza had asked her not to break Kara’s heart, to take good care of it and her, but who— who was looking out for _her_ now? Who would protect _her_ heart? It wasn’t fair, Lena thought, the hollow feeling in her chest opening up and throbbing painfully as she forced a shuddering breath. It wasn’t fair, and nothing made any sense, and she was just so, so fucking tired of it all.

When Lena woke up, her head felt like it had been smashed in.

Dark-colored liquors, like brandy, wine, and whiskey gave a much worse hangover, but this one would give her a run for her money. It was the kind she loathed herself for incurring, where even the slightest movement or sound, wafting scent or change in the quality of light made her world keel over onto its side. It was the kind where she had smoked so many cigarettes the night before that her lungs ached and her throat felt like she had attempted to swallow a Persian rug. When she carefully sat up in bed, her head was skewered with a red-hot metal rod right between her eyes, the movement and rustling of sheets quite enough to have Lena press a hand to her mouth and cover her eyes.

She wanted to sink back into the pillows, but the vile concoction sloshing around in her stomach had other plans, forcing her to untangle from her covers and stumble into the bathroom blindly.

Yesterday, an ounce of alcohol for each unwanted thought seemed like a good idea. Two and a half hours of dry heaves reminded Lena it was not. Sweaty and shivering from exertion, she sat, slumped against cold tiles and with her head in her hands. If only the world would stop bloody spinning for a few seconds, there might have been a slight chance of her getting back to bed, but it spun and spun and spun, and the throbbing in her head wouldn’t let up, and she just stayed where she was, breathing through waves of pain and nausea.

She didn’t know what time it was, only that time certainly did pass while her hangover did not. Nausea flowed and ebbed, the alcohol-induced headache turned into a migraine, and, somehow and eventually, she made it back into the bedroom.

It was the weekend. She could stay in bed if she wanted to. She would be fine by Monday.

48 Hours, a million angry hives all over her body, and a massive attack later, Lena had to concede that she wasn’t fine. Even with liberal doses of Zomig and painkillers. Trudging around the dark apartment for water or crackers or the bathroom was a waking nightmare. She could do nothing else but lie around for hours on end, blinds and eyes closed, phone turned off, and the doorbell disconnected. She slept a lot.

She had let Eve know. Eve knew what to do. They had been here before. She hadn’t had a migraine attack this bad in a long while, and it was absolutely her own damn fault and also absolutely abysmal timing, but Eve would know who to alert and how to shuffle things around to keep everything running smoothly until Lena was back. If she would ever be back. She hadn’t told Eve this—of course not, not yet anyway—but, all things considered, Lena was pretty certain, she’d go back to Metropolis for good.

She didn’t particularly want to, but the thought of staying in National City had her stomach convulse and clench around nothing and saltines. Objectively, there was no reason for her to stay. Mother would make her life hell if she did. Sam was in Metropolis. And Jack too. If nothing else, she owed him an apology.

By the time Lena felt remotely human again and almost looked the part too, the week was nearly over. Her phone was back on, but on vibrate, her bags were packed, and her heart was heavy. There were missed calls and messages— Mother, Eve, Sam; a voicemail from Andrea that she deleted without listening to it first. But no Kara.

Yes, she had told Kara to leave her alone. And, by now, Kara’s article had probably gone to print, and there was no reason for Kara to contact her ever again— unless her editor wanted a follow-up. Lena knew all this. She knew how it worked. And, if she took Mother’s advice, there was also a restraining order in their future at some point, but, even amidst the messy aftermath of Kara’s betrayal, a stubborn streak inside her point-blank refused to accept her new reality.

No one was such a good liar, she couldn’t have faked all of it. And Lena didn’t know if that thought made her feel better or worse. If at least part of it had been real, how could Kara have gone through with the rest? Perhaps that was what hurt the most. The almost-feeling of it all. _Almost_ hurt so much more than _why_ ever could. 

Her phone still in her hand, it began to vibrate with an incoming call, and Lena blew out a long breath before she answered. This morning, she had asked Eve to check with their pilots and let her know when one of the jets would be available and ready to go. She had brought this on herself.

“Good afternoon, Mother.”

“Lena. How lovely to hear your voice. You sound tired, dear.”

Lena squeezed her eyes shut, rubbing a hand over her forehead. “Mother—”

“Lena, _sweetheart_. Always so sensitive. If I had known our little… chat would send you right into another one of your… episodes, I would have stayed with you, of course. How are you feeling?” Mother didn’t wait for her answer. “Just so you know, I’ve made an appointment with Dr. Fries for you, because clearly, the medication he gave you is no longer working for you. Maybe we should also consider seeing another specialist—”

Lena was not listening. Both feet still firmly on National City soil, she was already back in Mother’s controlling clutches. There was no question who ran the Luthor show—who had always run it, even back in the day—and the answer wasn’t Lex.

“Mother,” Lena said, as firmly as possible. “I don’t need—”

“Oh, hush now, Lena.” Mother clicked her tongue. “I am your _mother_. It is my job to worry about my children.” She sighed. “And I am very sorry. I should never have agreed to this in the first place. Letting you relocate to the other side of the country and giving you all this responsibility— and now, look at you! Too much, too soon, wasn’t it? Well, we won’t make that same mistake again, isn’t that right? We’ll wait until you’re ready next time, now won’t we, Lena.”

Lena said nothing. There was no point.

“Don’t feel bad, dear. We all knew it was a risk sending you to National City. You’ve always been a sickly child. Not everyone is… well, we’ll see how it goes once you’re back at headquarters.”

Roughly five minutes on the phone with Mother, and Lena already felt like screaming again. She had no idea how she’d survive a return to headquarters or to Luthor Manor, for that matter. Not without her brother there. He might have lost touch with reality at some point and done unspeakable things, but Lex had always been there for her growing up, had been firmly in her corner when it counted, and had patched her up when things got out of hand.

She couldn’t do this without him. Any of it. She couldn’t do this without her brother there.

“Which reminds me, Lena,” Mother said, her voice rising to keep her attention. “Since you were… unwell and unable to take any of my calls— and I only learned of your… situation days later and through your assistant—” Mother paused, and Lena felt her heart thud dully in her chest. “Well, I am afraid, I won’t be able to send one of the jets over to collect you, dear. They will be in the air for most of the weekend too, and we certainly can’t wait until one of them frees up again. What if you went into another episode?”

Lena doubted it, but, with Mother on her case like this, it might just happen. Just to prove her right and please her.

“I am fine, Mother,” Lena said quietly.

“Of course you are, dear.” Mother hesitated. She was good at this— the worried sighs, the pregnant pauses, the considerate hesitancy—but it was all fake. Just like her perfectly manicured fingernails. “But still, I would sleep better knowing you within driving distance as soon as possible, Lena. Just in case. You do understand that, don’t you?”

Well, it was a lie, but what was she supposed to say about it? She couldn’t say anything. Not when Mother phrased it like this.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Lena!” The reprimand was instant, and had the nape of her neck grow warm.

“Yes, Mother,” Lena corrected herself. “I understand.”

“I knew you would. You’re a bright girl.” Lena did roll her eyes at that, but only because Mother couldn’t see it over the phone. “If you are well enough to travel, I am sure you can manage flying commercial? Just this once? It should be alright, the last commercial flight for Metropolis tonight was almost completely booked, but that clever assistant of yours did a wonderful job and has managed to secure you a seat in first class. You could bring her with you, if you liked, you know? Good help is very hard to find these days.”

That was high praise, coming from Lillian Luthor. But, then again, Eve had managed the impossible and gotten Mother exactly what she wanted and how she wanted it, so Lena wasn’t surprised. She also wasn’t surprised at Mother’s chosen punishment for her. Lena didn’t mind flying commercial, but Mother probably thought she did, because Lillian Luthor wouldn’t be caught dead on an airplane that didn’t bear her last name on the side.

“I will think about it,” Lena hedged. She wouldn’t uproot poor Eve, if she could help it. “Thank you, Mother.”

“Safe travels, dear,” Mother said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The call disconnected, the line going dead before Lena could get another word in.

It was fine, she told herself. She would have flown out today or tomorrow morning anyway. What did it matter, if Mother decided when exactly she’d be leaving the city? It didn’t, not really. Not in the grand scheme of things. Not when she had other things to worry about. Not when she had to look forward to her private life becoming public knowledge and entertainment for the masses yet again. She had bigger problems.

The last flight to Metropolis left at 9:45 p.m., Eve informed her a few minutes later. Her driver would pick her up and take her and her luggage to the airport with enough time to spare for security checks and the like—ever since the alien attacks in Metropolis had started, they were extra thorough with travel in and out of the city—and she’d arrive in Metropolis early in the morning.

Lena didn’t like flying. She knew that, statistically, it was the safest way to travel, but it still made her nervous. At least with a red-eye flight she wouldn’t be tempted to watch the world shrink outside her little window. And, if she was flying overnight, she could sneak out of National City under the cloud of night and be far away from the line of fire by the time the press in Metropolis woke up, had a coffee, and went to work. It was a small mercy, and, despite everything, Lena was grateful for it.

She spent the rest of her afternoon on her balcony, watched the sun set over National City one last time, and tried her best to ignore the nagging feeling in her belly. The nagging feeling telling her she was making a huge mistake. The nagging feeling that made her skin crawl with foreboding. The nagging feeling that wanted her to call Kara and, well, _something_.

Anything.

She could call and say goodbye. Let her know, she’d return her sweater in the mail. Eventually. Or maybe, she wouldn’t. Maybe she’d burn it. Maybe she’d wear it to bed until it lost the last of its smell, and _then_ burn it. Lena didn’t know. All she knew was that Kara’s NCU sweatshirt had, somehow, ended up in her suitcase.

The sun went down, sucked the last warm hues from the sky, and, before she knew it, Lena found herself at National City airport, in the domestic flights area, hefting her carry-on on her shoulder and looking for the right gate; a tall guy in inconspicuous clothes but with very telling shoes hot on her heels. She was a Luthor. Mother would never let her do this unsupervised. It wasn’t the word Mother would have used, she would have chosen _unprotected_ , because protection was much more palatable than supervision. 

Lena strode through the airport, trying to take deep breaths and get excited about seeing Sam, Ruby, and Jack again. It almost worked. Samantha Arias and her sweet little daughter were, and always had been, the best thing about living in Metropolis. Sam worked for her family, technically, but they were close enough in age and interests, and had soon bonded over long nights at the office and insufferable men taking up too much time and space in boardrooms. Sam was fierce, and fun, and the best friend a girl could ask for. She was also very busy. Working single mom and all that. However, if it hadn’t been for Sam, her advice and patience, Lena would never have had the guts to pack up her life and move to National City.

Now that she was minutes away from undoing all that, Lena felt guilt twist within her. Sam would be so… pissed at her. Hopefully. Pissed she could do, but she would never survive with Sam disappointed in her.

She sank down on one of the seats in the waiting area and fumbled for her phone, digging it out of her coat pocket. Maybe she should call Sam, get it over with. Sam could cool off while she was high above the clouds, and they could meet for coffee this weekend, maybe. Being back at headquarters on Monday would be much more tolerable with the reassurance that Sam would be there too— and that she wasn’t mad at Lena.

Just when Lena had pulled up her contacts and was scrolling for Sam, her phone began to buzz in her hand, and Sam’s name flashed on her display. It wasn’t the first time this happened, and Lena smiled as she accepted the call.

“Sam! Hi!” 

“Good, you’re alive,” Sam’s voice said, a little disgruntled. “Now, where the hell are you, Lena? Your assistant said you would be ‘out of the city for a few days’, which, pretty much translates to—” The rest of her sentence was drowned out by announcements, and Lena pressed her phone to her ear. “You’re at the airport. Seriously?”

“Yes, Samantha, I am at the airport,” Lena said, a little confused by the incredulous tone.

“Girl, you’re not flying back here,” Sam said at once. She was the queen of putting one and one together before anyone else did, and Lena didn’t question it. “Turn around.”

She sighed. “I am and I can’t.”

“Sweets, don’t get me wrong, I love you and we’re happy to tackle hug you any time, but— what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“It’s complicated, Sam.”

“No shit, Luthor. I can read,” Sam deadpanned, and Lena swallowed against the anxious lump that had formed in her throat. It was out then. People were reading it. She was going to die. She had to hole up in a cabin in the woods or something and not show her face for a year or so.

“I— I fucked up, Sam,” Lena finally admitted. “I fucked up and Mother is all over me, and—”

“You’re panicking. I can hear you panicking.” At the other end of the line, she could hear the distant clinking sounds of dishes and glasses, heard the water running and shutting off. “Lena. Hey. Stop. Listen to me.” Rustling noises, Sam’s breathing loud at her ear for a second, before she continued, her voice calm and steady. “First of all: Fuck your mom. Second, I’m here for you always, you know that, but you’re making a mistake. You need to turn that pert, capable ass around right now and head straight back—”

“I can’t, Sam,” Lena almost sobbed into the phone, but didn’t. “It’s not—”

“Have you read it?”

“What?”

Sam’s question cut right through her spiraling thoughts, leaving her slightly confounded. Had she heard that right?

“The article,” Sam said. “Have you read it?”

“No?!”

Of course, she hadn’t. She wouldn't. What kind of question was that?

“You might want to read it, Lena.”

Sam was bloody serious, and Lena understood nothing anymore. Well, less than nothing. Her understanding of things had slipped into the negative range.

“W-why?” She stammered.

“Trust me. Read it,” Sam said. “Heck, read it _on_ the plane, if you must, but read it, okay?”

Lena frowned in response, even when Sam couldn’t see her.

“Don’t make that face. You are making that face,” Sam’s voice warned, and Lena found that she was fighting the beginnings of a smile.

“Am not.”

“Are too. And don’t.” Sam took a breath, and, suddenly, she was serious again. “Listen. Do what you gotta do. If you have to skip town for a bit, okay, that’s alright, let’s grab coffee. My treat.”

Lena chuckled wetly.

“We'll sort this out. I love you,” Sam said, her voice warm. “Just hang in there until we do, yeah? And read the damn article.”

“Okay, okay. I will,” Lena said. “Thank you, Sam.”

“Don’t mention it. Rubes and I will be here to hug you, first chance we get. Have a safe trip back to hell.”

“Yeah, yeah. I must be mental.”

“Only a little bit. It’s why I love you. Stay safe and call me, okay?”

“I will.”

Adjusting her sunglasses and wrapping her scarf around her neck a few extra times, Lena stood up, grabbed her bag, and headed for the nearest shop selling books, candy, and magazines. Strolling up and down the aisles, she picked up some Sudoku puzzles, a chocolate bar, and an inflatable neck cushion, slowly circling in on the shelf that housed the most popular women’s magazines. CatCo Magazine was hard to miss, always glossy, always loud and proud, and Lena quickly snatched up a copy, adding it to the small pile in her arms.

Her heart hammering in her chest, she skimmed the cover on her way to the register.

Something about jeans, something about foods that wrecked your diet, something about alien technology, something posing the question if sex could save a relationship (the answer was no), and, finally, the words ‘ _How to Lose a Girl in 10 Days_ ’ staring at her in big, bold, pink letters.

She held her breath, paid, and, once outside the shop, gasped for air that wasn’t filtered through layers of cotton. She cracked the covers, thumbing pages quickly as she walked, and began to read. 

_I’ve lost a girl and I know why_ , the opening line read. _What went wrong? When I started writing this month’s column, I wanted to commit to dating a girl to prove something, to make a point. What I didn’t realize was that I would commit to so much more and would be making the biggest mistake of all without realizing it._

Her flight was called for boarding and Lena, one finger safely resting between the pages, hastily stuffed her other purchases into her bag, and fished out her passport.

She boarded the plane, found her seat, and buckled her seat belt. The ventilated air was very cold on her face as she settled back to read on, slipping out of her heels and tugging her legs under her body before she opened her copy of CatCo’s current issue again and found her place.

_My mother, who is an expert in both the human condition and the art of growing things, once told me that, in order for any relationship to grow and to grow healthily, it needs the right soil. It needs honesty. Without honesty, there can never be trust. And if you’re not honest with yourself and living your truth, you can’t compromise where you need to and will compromise yourself and your relationship instead. So, here is my confession: I haven’t been honest._

Looking up to blink against the sudden sting in her eyes, Lena bit her lip. Her heart pumped steadily, but ached on every squeeze, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what came next. She also felt incredibly guilty again, and it took her a moment to pinpoint what exactly had triggered it this time. Or rather: who.

She had promised Eliza not to break Kara’s heart, to be by her side, and to take good care of her. Not word for word, of course, but in so many of them, and in between the lines. She had promised to take care of Albert, and, not only had she completely forgotten about her little alien plant, she had abandoned him. She wasn’t even sure he was still alive.

Biting her lip harder when she couldn’t stop the tears from falling, Lena quickly and discreetly wiped at her cheeks with her scarf, then drew a shaky breath. She was on an airplane. An East Coast bound airplane. An airplane about to take off. There was no going back now, and she very much couldn’t fall apart right here and right now either— even when it felt like she was holding herself together with nothing but hairpins and one single chocolate bar in her bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is trying really hard in this one. Trying in their own way. (And sometimes, that way is evil.)
> 
> Thoughts?


	21. The Plane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your support and your comments (I will get to those in a bit 😊)!  
> And thank you for being patient while I was busy being sick and getting better.  
> Feeling almost human again, so here's a little update to tide you over.
> 
> Happy Supercorp Sunday!

She didn’t cry. She didn’t feel like she deserved to do that. Instead, Kara buried herself in her work, reading and writing all day every day, and then going home to do the same on her laptop some more. She worked deep into the nights, the only light coming from her muted TV, blue and cold. She worked, and tried not to think about anything else outside of work.

She slept very little and ate even less. And, in the end, it only took a few days of intermittent eating and too much caffeine for her to crack.

Terrified of the aching grief settled beneath her ribs, she had called Alex.

Armed to her teeth with food and kind words, her sister had come blasting through the door within fifteen minutes after said call had ended, hauled her close, and hugged her tight; and Kara had buried her face in Alex’s shoulder, clinging on hard and not letting go for a very long moment.

They hadn’t talked about it.

The overwhelming inability to think of or speak a word about what had happened—about what she’d lost—had Kara stay silent. Speaking Lena’s name would have felt like rubbing steel wool over an open wound, and Alex understood.

Her sister was the one person she didn’t feel the need to apologize to for silence, and they had communicated in hugs and little reassuring touches instead, Alex coaxing her to try some of the curry she had brought and then wrapping Kara in her favorite blanket and strong arms until she fell asleep, exhausted.

They had talked a little the next morning, carefully, cautiously, and Kara had come to a decision. If she wanted even the slightest chance of fixing any of it, she would have to rely on her strengths, apologize, and come clean— about more than just the assignment, which had both given and taken away the best thing that had ever happened to her. All she could do was apologize, be one hundred percent honest, and hope against hope that that would be enough.

To make any of it happen, however, she had had to lie one last time. And make it a big one. Cat was out of town for a conference, Snapper was in charge of the current issue, and Kara had to lie through her teeth to get her article in at the very last minute.

It went to print, and, after another anxious day at the office, Kara went to the Port.

She hadn’t planned on it. She just needed to be somewhere that wasn’t home or work; somewhere loud and colorful, where she wouldn’t hear herself think. It was Friday evening, so chances were pretty high she would get a lot more sound and color than she had asked for, but she didn’t care.

It was Friday, her article had been out for nearly a whole day, and she still hadn’t heard from Lena. She couldn’t drive herself mad wondering. Wondering if Lena had read it, if she should have sent a copy directly to L-Corp (she had talked herself out of that idea), or if she had done the wrong thing again and ruined any and all chances she might have had. Maybe she had been supposed to just leave it be? What if she had made everything worse?

The Port was packed, a place of clamor and thudding music with every table full, every seat taken. The bar was jammed tight, and the overflow spilled out onto the dance floor and between tables. All three pool tables were in action, the games alive with laughter and chatter.

As she scanned the crowded space, Kara spotted a single free stool at the far end of the bar. Holding her breath, she cut through the din like a knife through butter and plopped down on it with a huff, her ears blocked, her vision blurry, and her heart shuddering in her chest. She definitely wouldn’t be able to think a single thought in here.

“Hiya, toots, what can I do you for?”

The bartender’s voice was too loud, his grin too bright, but Kara gave him a tight smile anyway. “Uh, just—” She squeezed her eyes shut for a beat, trying to bring his face into focus. “Just… soda for now, I guess?”

He gave her a look, but nodded. “Some sweet hydration, coming right up.”

Still smiling, he turned and moved onto the next order, his hands busy with opening bottles and grabbing and filling cups.

It only took a moment before a cup and a soda can appeared in front of her, and Kara sighed. She reached for the can, concentrating on the feeling in her fingers as they closed around the cool aluminum. She had to force herself to apply just the right amount of pressure. Enough to hold and lift, but not to dent or break. Squinting slightly, she fumbled with the pull-tab (oh, how she hated those), feeling the air hiss from her lungs in time with the soda as the lid finally gave way and allowed her to pour her drink.

She watched the dark liquid fill her glass.

She was used to it by now. Making the mundane appear effortless; like something she didn’t have to think twice about. You couldn’t tell just by looking at her—she had gotten that good—but Kara had to constantly think. Think and calculate and adjust. React rather than interact. It was a tiring way of being, of existing in a world she would never fully belong to. 

Sipping on her soda, Kara looked around the room. Here were others like her, so many of them, but none quite like her. Other stowaways and unlucky lucky ones. All of them confined to this overcrowded space, to this room that seemed to shrink by the second, becoming smaller and smaller the longer Kara thought about it.

She shook her head. She had come here voluntarily. She could leave if she wanted to. Or, she could just sit here and take it, let her eyes and ears grow dull and deaf to the constant onslaught. She could just sit here, the taste of sticky sweet soda on her tongue and static filling her brain to the brim, and vanish in plain sight.

The TV above her head was muted, nothing but high-pitched humming noise and changing lights. The news was on, the news anchor she liked guiding anyone interested through today’s events step by step, story by story. Something about the President. Something about the election.

Kara looked away, returning her attention to her drink.

Against her leg, her phone buzzed. It buzzed and buzzed and buzzed, until she finally managed to dig it out of her pocket without breaking the darn thing. Something tiny and hopeful inside her perked up for just one brief second, before she read the name on the display and it deflated again.

Not Lena. Of course not.

Alex was calling. And, by the looks of it, she had been calling for the better part of the last hour: eight missed calls, a couple minutes apart, glaring up at Kara reproachfully.

Kara deleted the notification. Whatever it was, it could wait. It was too noisy here, anyway. She would call Alex back once she got home.

Just when she made to put her phone away, it buzzed again, alerting her to a message that had just come in.

 _Where are you?_ , the message read. _Lena is leaving for Metropolis tonight. Last flight out. Don’t do anything stupid! Call me!_

Kara stared at Alex’s words, comprehension lagging behind as she looked down at her phone in her hands. She read the message again.

Lena. Lena was… what? Going… where? Flying… on a plane to Metropolis. Flying today, flying now. She was… leaving.

Contrary to what Alex’s message was insinuating, Kara had no plans to do anything about it. Stupid or otherwise. Lena was gone, and there was nothing she could do about that. Lena was gone, and she would just sit here for a little while longer; then drag herself home. It was her fault, she had tried to fix it, and she had failed. What else was there for her to do, but sit here, staring at a drink that was all wrong, in a place that was too loud, surrounded by people, but feeling more alone than she ever had?

As if on autopilot, Kara’s fingers pulled up the airport’s website, swiped and tapped for today’s departures, and scrolled down the list until her eyes had found what they were looking for.

 _Flight NA237, bound for Metropolis, departure 09:45 PM_.

Even if she had wanted to do… something, anything, it was much too late for that. She would never make it to the airport in time.

Kara set her phone down. The air smelled like peanuts and sweat. Her head was swimming with noise and thoughts. She was hot. The taste of bile and sugar in her mouth, she leaned on the bar and waved to catch the barkeeper’s attention.

“Hellgrammite Firewhiskey, please.”

She had no idea where they had come from, but the words were out of her mouth before she could take them back. And maybe, a cool strong drink would help. If a firewhiskey was even served on ice. The name suggested otherwise, and Kara had no way of knowing.

The barkeeper had hesitated for a beat, but was now pouring an amber-colored liquid over ice cubes. The ice hissed and cracked, the firewhiskey glowing red as it filled the cracks like blood pumping through veins and tiny fissures.

“Straight H. Really?” The barkeeper watched her, his eyes warmer than they had been earlier, and Kara hastily averted her gaze. “You are going to be sorry in the morning, toots.”

“I’m already sorry.” Kara lifted the glass to her lips and, throwing caution and common sense to the wind, took a big gulp. True to its name, the firewhiskey burned in her mouth and scorched her throat on the way down. “So keep them coming.”

She didn’t mean that. Not really. It was something someone in a movie would say in her situation, a line in a script, but Kara didn’t much feel like being herself right about now, so it was fine.

The drink got her blood pumping, sending heat through her body and tingles to her toes. She could sit here and drink a little while longer. She could sit here, growing warm and fuzzy, and ignore the sharp pit in her stomach. She could sit here while Lena’s plane was on the tarmac. Sit and drink through take-off and watch it gain speed and altitude in her mind until, at two thousand feet, it would hit a mass of fog type clouds and vanish.

Nursing her drink and indulging her personal kind of brain fog, Kara tried not to think about Lena. Or her job. Coming to think of it, come Monday, she might not even have a job to return to anymore. She had risked everything to get her apology out there. However, unlike in the movies, it hadn’t been enough. Too little, too late.

Morning or Monday, whichever came first, would leave her to pick up the pieces of her life and adjust those that were new and different, those that were broken beyond repair or came with sharp edges.

She had lost everything before. She would live.

She wiped her eyes with her hand, swallowed back more flames and tears, and let her breath escape her in a long, fiery exhale.

She would live. Probably.

“Turn it up!” Someone behind her said, and Kara turned her head to see who had spoken and why, when she realized that the music had been turned down and everyone around her was staring at the TV above the bar.

The broadcast was a news report, one with the 'BREAKING NEWS' caption sprawled across the bottom of the screen.

“If you're just joining us,” the news anchor was saying, his face taking up half of the split screen, looking grim. “Shortly after take-off, National City Airlines, Flight 237 bound for Metropolis, is experiencing some loss of altitude. The pilot seems to be circling the city after apparent engine failure—”

“Did he say Metropolis?!”

_Lena._

Kara was on her feet and outside the Port within seconds.

She was debating what to do, rapidly breathing in cool night air to clear the fog from her brain, when two fire trucks, an ambulance, and a couple of NCPD squad cars raced past, blue and red lights flashing and sirens wailing, splitting the peaceful evening in two.

The light danced on the sleek black water in the basin and the wailing sound bounced right off the surface, somehow even shriller when it hit her ears a second time, and Kara couldn’t stay still one second longer.

Following the emergency lights and the sirens, she chased after the convoy, her feet hitting the ground hard enough to leave cracks in the pavement. She turned a corner and ran down an alley to cut corners and make good on lost time, knowing full-well that she’d never make it running. Running wasn’t enough.

The air smelled like burning gasoline, up ahead the airplane was too low in the sky and falling, flames shooting out of at least one engine, and Kara knew what she had to do.

Whipping her glasses off and shrugging her jacket off and tossing it mid-run, she picked up speed. Her eyes were trained on the plane, seeing through buildings to keep it in view. Feet and heart pounding, Kara frowned, looking harder, scanning harder, willing her eyes to see deep inside the aircraft as it dipped again.

People, so many people. Scared; clinging to their seats, their masks, each other.

The plane was moving too fast—she was moving too fast—to get a clearer picture, but her eyes refused to look anywhere else until they had found what they were searching for.

When they found Lena—Lena sitting motionless in her seat, hands folded in her lap as if in prayer—Kara’s heart shrieked in blind panic, contracting painfully around the scream that was building and rising within her, but that got stuck in her throat.

Lena. Lena, Lena, Lena. 

Kara could hear more and more sounds with every step she took—sirens, sounds of breathing, air rushing past her, muffled crying and desperate, whispered prayers sent from aboard Flight 237 heavenwards; sent to a higher power that wouldn’t answer the plea. Not unless—

Kara began to run, not in a controlled manner, as she had before, but madly, recklessly, like a wild and powerful thing. She rushed down the alley under a tumult of crimson and gold, running in great leaping strides and shouting as she ran, feeling her body rise into the crisp rushing air and fall back surely on two sure feet; feet that would never stop running until Lena was safe, until everyone was safe.

The thought of losing Lena: it was unbearable. Kara leapt up into the air, shouting and yelling wild, unrecognizable sounds; calling out to foreign Gods in a language unfamiliar to Earthly ears, calling out for assistance, and guidance, and the confidence buried deep under years of pretending and hiding.

Kara cried out, and there was a burst of muscle-straining doubt: What if she wasn’t strong enough? What if she had forgotten how?

Hoping her faith in the old Gods was well-founded, Kara closed her eyes.

Feeling the air whistling past her ears. The pounding of her heart. The strength of ready muscles. Rising with another yell, another push, another leap, a sensation like warm air rushed through her, and she was flying, finally, gloriously, her muscles falling back on memory to keep her afloat in midair.

Kara opened her eyes and sucked in a greedy breath, more awake than she had ever felt, strength and urgency pulsing in her veins as she pushed off.

The plane was right above her now. It was so big and solid her mind quailed, but it was gathering her muscles regardless; readying her for a fight, for the task she had to complete no matter what.

Kara’s hands gripped the belly of the beast, fingers sinking into metal like it was cake batter.

 _Rao, give me strength_ , she thought, feeling the airplane's weight shift and rest on her shoulders. _Rao, protect me, so that I might protect others_.

Another engine blew, parts breaking away and hitting her square in the face, but Kara wouldn’t let go. Inside the plane people were screaming, the pilot was sending off another distress call and telling his crew to brace for impact.

Breathing in smoke and soot, Kara coughed and squinted.

The metal was warm and pliable in her hands, and Kara pushed up against it, trying to steady the falling phoenix before it would crash and burn. The metal clanked and groaned, the engine roared, and she stuck the length of her body to the belly of the plane like a Remora refusing to leave a dying host.

Finally, miraculously, the plane leveled off, and Kara heaved a relieved breath.

Then she realized that she and her metal-made responsibility were headed straight for Otto Binder Bridge— which, despite the lateness of the hour, was crawling with traffic, the cars’ lights little beacons in the darkness.

“Oh, come on!” Kara grunted.

Too late to go under or over. They would have to go through.

Yelling, she put her whole weight behind it and pushed, her teeth bared with effort as her body bucked against the strain, every muscle in her body pulled taut. Creaking and screaming filled her ears as the bird flopped onto its side, narrowly missing the towers and suspenders as it squeezed right through the middle, while its wing sliced the tarmac in half as it went.

When the plane hit the water, pushing her under with disorienting force, the breath exploded from Kara’s lungs, and she gasped, but only managed to take down a mouthful of murky water before she bumped against steel again. Everywhere was water or plane, the distant sound of cheering and clapping washing over her and flogging her on the head as she bobbed underwater, confused and struggling to find her bearings.

“Holy—! I’m never doing this again.”

At the sound of Lena’s voice, Kara’s eyes flew open and she felt her way to one of the wings, holding onto the edge for a couple gulps of wonderful night air, before pulling herself up and out of the water.

Panting and dripping wet from head to toe, she stood, almost as taken aback by the night’s events as the passengers on Flight 237, but only for a moment. As she stood, her lungs sucking in air and the wind cool on her face, the adrenaline rush of getting out of a tight corner by the skin of her teeth raced through her, leaving her body on high-alert and buzzing with the feeling of giddy relief and accomplishment.

She felt like she could fly.

She _had_ flown. 

Excitement and elation hit Kara at full force.

She had flown and she could do it again!

The passengers were scrambling about: sighing, laughing, clapping, thanking their good fortune or their god, pulling out phones to call their loved ones or to snap pictures, and Kara turned her head in the direction of the small, round windows, briefly worrying her lip, before she spotted Lena.

Lena was gazing out of her little window, her whole body turned in her seat, her palm pressed against the glass, the most awe-struck expression on her face.

Pumped with her natural high, Kara’s body was still tingling, but the sight of Lena—safe and unharmed, and gazing at her like she put all the stars and planets in her solar system—threatened to send her right over the edge and into blissful, heart-stopping oblivion. Her heart was so full and going so fast, it would surely burst at the seams on the next beat. Or the one after that.

Lena was okay. She had made sure Lena was okay.

Suddenly filled with relief as heavy as lead, Kara slumped and stumbled forward, catching herself just before she would have ended up too close and too personal with wet metal. Floating just a few inches above the wing, she slowly rose higher, hovered in the air, and risked another glance over her shoulder.

No matter how much she might have wanted to, Kara knew she couldn’t stay. Not here, not now. Too many people, too many questions. Questions that she herself didn’t know any of the answers to.


	22. The Night

“What were you thinking?!” Alex gestured at the TV, where footage of the evening’s events was playing on a loop. The plane, the bridge, Kara. Only the reporters had no idea it was Kara. “What—” Alex mouthed soundlessly, flipping through her personal rolodex of expressions before settling on exasperated concern. “What part of _don’t do anything stupid_ —”

“Saving lives isn’t stupid, Alex,” Kara countered, watching her sister pace from the safety of the couch. “I’m not going to apologize for it.”

Alex stopped, hands gripping the back of a chair. “Of course not, but Kara—”

“Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same? If you knew all those people would die, _Maggie_ would die—”

Wincing, Alex held up a hand. “Okay, I get why you… but the world will know, Kara. They will figure it out. Who you are, what you are, and I—”

“I was never supposed to be just Kara,” Kara said softly, looking up at her sister as she slowly combed her fingers through her damp hair. “And I don’t want to take any of it back. I’m okay, Alex. Really. It’s okay.”

Alex huffed out a breath, threw herself into the chair, and crossed her arms over her chest. She nodded at the TV. “Tell that to Otto Binder.”

“You try saving a plane for the first time. See if you don't make a mess.”

Alex smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “You actually did that, huh? Flying after a plane, landing it in the water…” 

“I still can't believe I did it.”

“Neither can I.” Alex rubbed her forehead. “Are you really okay? Were you scared?”

Back on the ground, yes, she had been scared to her toes. But up in the air? Kara couldn’t have put a name to the feeling if she tried, but scared wasn’t it. “I mean, I was scared too, I guess. Scared I wouldn’t make it in time and—” She’d rather not finish that thought— “but I did! I'm just...” She sat up a little straighter, unable to contain the giddiness that bubbled up inside of her like soda. “I _flew_ , Alex!”

Alex shook her head, chuckled.

It was all the invitation Kara needed. She had been dying to talk about it, give her sister a blow-by-blow of the entire night, share this incredible feeling with the one person who would understand, who could even come close enough to understand just how… big this was; what it meant for her, meant _to_ her.

“It has been so long. I almost forgot how to fly. Well, not so much _how_ , but more, ... more how it feels, like…”

Alex leaned forward in her seat, resting her elbows on her thighs and her chin in her hands. “Yeah, I remember.”

“You do?”

Alex nodded. “I also remember the talking-to that came after.”

“This is different.”

“Great. You’re explaining it to Mom then. See how that goes.”

“Eliza said it was my decision,” Kara said, recalling the night of the thunderstorm. The incredulous look on her sister’s face almost made her laugh out loud. “Who I tell, I mean. And if I want to tell… well, _everyone_... I’m pretty sure that’s covered too.”

“Well, maybe.” Alex didn’t sound convinced.

“What would you have had me do then? Let everyone _die_?” Kara asked. She loved her sister, loved how Alex always had her back no matter what, but sometimes her protectiveness got the better of her and made her impossible to reason with. “You think Eliza would have been happy with the both of us then?”

Alex threw up her hands. “Of course not. Look, it doesn’t matter. I just—”

“Why even tell me about the plane? About Lena? If you didn’t want me to do anything about it?”

“I… I just thought you should know.” Alex rubbed her palms on her thighs. A nervous habit, a tell. Only Kara didn’t know what it was supposed to tell her exactly. “You’ve been… miserable, Kara. And I just… I thought maybe you’d want to call her or— I don’t know. I just thought you should know. I didn’t think they’d shoot the damn plane out of the sky, for heaven’s sake!”

“You told me, so I could… _call_ Lena? Catch her at the airport?” Kara frowned. Wouldn’t that have fit the description of ‘stupid’ to a T? “Wait… what? They didn’t say anything about that on the news. Who would—? How do you know that, Alex?”

Alex’s lips were a thin line. She shook her head. “Kara, I can’t—”

“Maggie!” Kara exclaimed, and Alex jumped. “Maggie told you, didn’t she?”

Maggie was police. Of course she would know if there had been an attack. However, Maggie’s unit was part of the Science Police division, and Kara didn’t like what that suggested about possible perpetrators or targets. More likely than not, at least one of the involved parties wasn’t human.

“Did she also know Lena was going to be on the plane? Why?”

Alex’s head was in her hands, but Kara wouldn’t let her off the hook that easily.

“Alex! Hey!” She threw a pillow. This time it hit its mark, and Alex looked up at her with a murderous look in her eyes. “How did you know? How did Maggie know? How—? Why—? What aren’t you telling me?!”

“Look,” Alex said. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” She held up a hand so Kara wouldn’t interrupt. “But there’s… nothing else, nothing… more I could tell you, Kara. Believe me.”

Alex’s eyes were pleading with her, and Kara knew at once that her sister was hiding something. Something big. Something she’d rather die to keep secret than tell her, and it made her mad. If she had learned anything these past months, it was that secrets sucked. You didn’t keep secrets from the people you loved. But she also knew not to push Alex right now. She’d just clamp up even harder. Fine, then.

“Maggie was there, you know,” Alex said, a tad too conversational to be genuine. “First responders. She saw you fly.”

“Everyone saw.”

Alex made an impatient noise. “Yeah, on TV.”

Silence for a beat.

“She said to tell you ‘stupid!’, but also ‘thank you’,” Alex said, her voice warming considerably as she mimicked her girlfriend’s tone. “Thanks to you, no one got seriously hurt. Just bumps and bruises, a concussion or two. Nothing major.”

“So Maggie knows,” Kara asked, already knowing the answer.

“I didn’t tell her. She put two and two together.”

Kara nodded. She didn’t mind. She liked Maggie. But that also meant—

“So, I can tell Lena. If she doesn’t already know. Which I think she does.”

Alex, looking every bit like she wanted to argue, opened her mouth, then closed it again.

“Just… be careful, okay? Be smart about this?” she said.

Kara pointed at her chest. “Ha! You said smart!”

Alex gave a laugh, but went back to her serious expression almost immediately. “I mean it, Kara.” She sighed. “I know I can’t tell you… what to do with…” She gestured at the TV again. “This. But, please. Sleep on it first, maybe?”

“Sleep on it?”

“Yeah. We should probably talk to Mom too. And Clark. Get ahead of whatever… happens now. With you… coming out?”

“We?” Kara repeated, glossing over Alex’s clumsy way of labelling what had happened tonight, what she had done. She wasn’t _wrong_. It just didn’t _feel_ the same. This wasn’t about who she loved, but about who she was. Okay, maybe the two weren’t all that different.

Alex scooted to the edge of her seat, holding out a hand. “Together? Let me help you?”

Kara eyed her for a moment, before scrambling to her knees and leaning forward to shake on it. “No bossing around.”

“Oh! No reckless clownery.”

They stuck their tongues out at each other, then laughed, and Kara felt something inside of her unwind.

Leaning back, Alex yawned.

“I just carried a plane on my back. Why are _you_ tired?” Kara teased, but Alex swatted her question away with her hand before clapping it over her mouth to stifle another yawn.

“W-work,” she mumbled. “Busy.”

“You could stay if you want?” Kara suggested. “I’m guessing Maggie’s not home yet?”

“Can’t,” Alex said, voice still muffled by her fingers. “Sorry. Wouldn’t say no to a scoop of… celebratory ice cream before I go, though?”

Kara glanced at the clock on the wall. Just after midnight. She shrugged. “Yes! Oooh, and waffles. I’m making waffles!”

Before her sister could do more than blink and utter some weak protest, she had already assembled the mixing bowl and the needed ingredients on the counter and was rummaging for the waffle iron.

“Oh, no way.” Alex heaved herself out of her chair, shuffled over, and made to stand next to her, playfully shoving her out of the way using her hip. “The fire department is busy elsewhere. And if they aren’t still, they deserve some rest.”

They had waffles straight from the iron, with chocolate sprinkles and ice cream. Alex had only three, maybe four, which left the rest of the stack for Kara. That was good, because only with the sweet scent of baked goods in her nose, did she realize that she was positively famished.

She had showered, turned on the TV and, staring at herself and the falling airplane on the screen, had completely forgotten about dinner. Well, hot waffles and melting ice cream it was then. And Kara swore she had never tasted anything better.

After Alex had left, Kara went to bed, but she couldn’t sleep. When she closed her eyes, instead of that falling sensation that sometimes happened between consciousness and sleep, her brain made her feel like she was floating, flying somewhere outside still, and Kara’s eyes snapped open every time, expecting to find the ceiling mere inches from her face.

She turned this way and that, tried falling asleep on her back and her belly, with an extra pillow and without any, but nothing worked. Her mind might have calmed down somewhat, but her body was still riding the high.

And when she didn’t think about flying, she thought about Lena.

She had made sure Lena was okay physically, but was she alright? Had _she_ been scared? Terrified? She must have been. She had had no idea Kara was coming to save her.

Rolling over, Kara reached for her phone on the nightstand, blinking rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the harsh light. She pulled up her messages and tapped Lena’s name, but then hesitated. Just because she had saved Lena’s life tonight, it didn’t mean they were speaking again; didn’t mean they were suddenly a-okay. And, even if she assumed Lena knew, she might not actually _know_ know.

Kara stared at the screen, fingers hovering over the keys, but her brain unable to find the right words to type. There probably weren’t any.

Movement drew her eyes to Lena’s name, and she nearly dropped her phone in shock when she realized her status had changed to ‘ _online_ ’. It was 03:37 in the morning. What was Lena doing up and on her phone?

Nothing happened for a solid minute or two. Kara’s palms were sweaty, but she wouldn’t let her phone slip from her grasp. She wouldn’t blink. Her heart thudding in her ears, she held her breath as ‘ _typing…_ ’ appeared and stayed. She watched the dots move.

A pinging sound, a bubble. Inside it, the words: ‘ _Meet me on the roof._ ’ — five little words that had Kara’s heart nearly jump out of her chest, screaming.

Meet. Her. On. The. Roof. Meet Lena—

Kara threw back her blanket, and almost fell butt over boobs in her haste to get to something to wear that wasn’t her sushi-print PJs. Heck, she’d have flown over to meet Lena in those too, but some small part of her was still rational enough to caution her against it. It had to be the same part of her brain that was still operational enough to have her reach for black jeans, a grey T-shirt, and one of the black hoodies she had ‘borrowed’ from Alex’s closet. Her socks were rainbow stripes, but no one was going to see them, Kara reasoned as she pulled on her ankle boots.

Pulling her hair up into a messy ponytail, she whirled around, located her phone amidst the crumpled mess that was her blanket and sheets, and stored it safely in her back pocket.

Within the next minute, her window was open and she was back zooming through the night.

Only, where exactly was she supposed to go? Lena hadn’t specified _which_ roof, and Kara would have felt stupid asking for clarification. However, she also wanted to get there as soon as possible. Hovering in midair, her lip pinned by her front teeth, she took a few shallow breaths. It had to be L-Corp. Or maybe Lena’s home? The home that she had been invited to for the first time what now felt like a lifetime ago, but still hadn’t seen.

Cursing her trembling hands, Kara fumbled with the little gold stud earrings that she never took out, nearly dropping them twice when doing just that and sliding them into her pocket. If she wanted to locate Lena, she needed her senses to be—

Beneath her, sirens wailed, people were shouting and laughing, somewhere a baby was crying. Kara squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating on her breathing, but ending up with the deafening roar of her own blood rushing through her body creeping her out hard enough that she would rather have focused on the baby and the barking dogs instead.

It had been so long. It had been forever. The glasses, the earrings. She had almost forgotten what Earth was like without them. How much it was. So much, all the time.

Sweat trickled down her spine (it was much too warm for the hoodie), the shirt tag itched on her neck and irritated her to no end, and Kara had to keep herself from ripping all the stuffy fabric off her skin. She pushed back the hood—slowly, small and controlled movements—and breathed deeply, the night air filling her lungs. _Just breathe_ , she told herself, her voice morphing into Eliza’s in her head. _Just breathe right through it. It’s going to pass. Just keep breathing_.

As she breathed—mindful breaths going in, going out—her skin calmed down and her ears adjusted. The baby was still there; the sirens, the dogs, the people, but there was a distance between them and Kara now. They weren’t in her bubble. Not unless she wanted them to be.

Kara kept her eyes closed as her whole being went out into the night. She still hadn’t moved, but her ears were in pursuit, honing in on the one sound she wanted to hear more than anything else in the world. 

Lena’s heart beating.

The thud-thud-thud came fast but steady, and nearly made Kara cry as she followed the sound. Lena wasn’t at L-Corp then. And, really, after a near-fatal plane crash and in the middle of the night? Why would she have been?

It took her maybe three minutes, probably less, to get to where Lena was, Lena’s heartbeat swelling to a drum solo in her ears as one of the skyscrapers on the richer side of town came into view.

There was the roof, deserted but for one lone figure, bundled up in a coat in spite of the rather warm night.

Lena.

Her own heart drowning out Lena’s, Kara slowed, her boots connecting with concrete as she touched down on the roof.

Lena was looking her way, but hadn’t taken a single step in her direction, and Kara stayed right where she was, unsure of whether Lena wanted her to come any closer or not. She had come at her request and she’d do this on Lena’s terms. She owed her that much.

“So.” Lena’s voice carried on the soft breeze, or maybe it was just Kara’s newly sensitive hearing. “You're... You're her. You’re really her.”

It was a statement, not a question, and she was probably too far away for Lena to see her properly in the dark, but Kara nodded anyway. “Yes.”

Lena’s arms were crossed, her stance radiating tension, but she stepped forward regardless, nearly causing Kara to step back and fall over the edge.

There was a pause. Then Lena spoke first.

“Are you… okay?”

“Me? Am I okay? Are _you_ okay?”

Kara was painfully aware of how their voices were a little higher pitched than usual, their words rushed. She was aware of how they hadn’t looked into each other’s faces since the party; aware of how Lena’s eyes kept flitting away whenever she tried to meet them halfway.

“Yes, thank you,” Lena said, a little breathlessly. “I’m not the one who— what exactly _did_ you do with the plane? _How_?”

Kara bit her lip, let it go with a soft pop. She would be nothing but honest tonight. Lena deserved nothing less.

“Caught it,” she said carefully. “Made sure it would touch down in the water.”

Lena took another hesitant step forward, letting her arms fall to her sides, and Kara’s body went heavy with longing, her heart—for the first time in days—full of hope. Foolish and false hope, perhaps, but hope nonetheless. She couldn’t help it.

Lena pushed her hair behind her ear. Kara watched her.

She had been trying not to look too closely, but couldn’t help doing that now either. Lena was pale and drawn, but, while she herself looked like a freaking mess, Lena was still absolutely, breathtakingly gorgeous.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Lena asked, and her voice shook. Kara couldn’t tell if it was from anger or emotion, but immediately felt her chest constrict, along with the familiar tension in her throat.

“If that's what it takes, yeah,” she rasped, her hand automatically flying up to adjust her glasses and finding she wasn’t wearing them. Right.

Lena’s eyes widened a little, there was a beat before she spoke again.

“Kara, please,” she said. On her next exhale, her bottom lip quivered, and Lena quickly set her jaw and pursed her lips. Kara heard her exhale through her nose. “What… what you said in your article. Is it true? Or are you just trying to sell magazines?”

“I meant every word.”

Lena blinked, unshed tears clinging to her dark lashes like pearls of dew. “You could have told me.”

“I… wanted to. I just didn’t know—”

“I knew you liked me,” Lena said, looking down at her nervous hands for a second and forcing them to stay still, one hand gripping the other. “And that you were… _different_. Why wouldn't you just tell me?” She looked at her then, briefly, the confused hurt in her eyes going through and through and leaving a bullet hole in Kara’s heart. “Unless, it wasn’t about you being—what is it? Martian? Thoron? — but about—”

“Kryptonian.”

Lena blinked at her.

“I am Kryptonian.”

The word didn’t register immediately, it seemed, but when it did, Lena was too stunned to remember to avoid her gaze. Searching, watery green pinned Kara to the spot, making her skin hum as warmth traveled up her neck and into her cheeks.

“You— excuse me?”

“Kryptonian,” Kara said again, her voice calm, but her heart a caged beast in her chest. “You asked what… _where_ I was from. The answer is: Krypton.”

Lena licked her lips. “Krypton?” She repeated, uncertainty heavy in both syllables. Kara watched her eyebrows draw down into a frown, watched her soft lip vanish behind her teeth. “Why— why would you tell me this, Kara?”

Kara didn’t understand the question. She didn’t understand the shadow that crossed Lena’s face and darkened her expression. She had been honest—finally honest. And wasn’t that what had been wrong all along? The mistake she had to rectify and atone for? Dishonesty? Cowardice? Lying by omission?

“Because I wanted to tell you,” she said, grabbing her own elbow tight to keep from reaching out.

Lena took an unsteady step back. “No, I mean, why would you tell _me_ this? Knowing who, who my family is?”

“I don’t know your family, I know you. And I trust you, Lena.”

It hadn’t been Kara’s intention to make her cry, but that was what she was doing, silent tears now running down Lena’s cheeks as she bit her lip, hard. She hadn’t planned on crying herself either, but, apparently, that was what was happening too, because, suddenly, her vision was blurry and her own cheeks were wet.

“I… I don’t understand,” Lena’s voice trembled, but she didn’t sob. Not yet. “I don’t understand why you would. My family, my _brother_ —”

That’s when Lena’s voice snapped clean in two, broke like thin ice on a freezing lake. Kara threw restraint and caution to the wind and reached for her hand— before Lena would sink and drown— or freeze to death.

“Lena!”

Hands linked, Kara followed the gentle pull and they both sunk to their knees, ending up on the ground, right next to each other and close enough for their legs to be touching.

“Your article, your article just said you weren’t… weren’t born on Earth,” Lena breathed between suppressed sobs, a frantic hand wiping at her eyes, her cheeks, then her eyes again. “I—I didn’t realize…”

“You… you couldn’t have known. I should… should've told you.”

Kara rubbed Lena’s knuckles reassuringly. This wasn’t a hug, not quite what she longed for, but it was more than she had dared to hope, and Kara would never let go again.

Lena sniffled. “Do… Do you want to tell me about it now?” she asked, looking up at Kara out of red-rimmed eyes. “When… when did you—?”

Kara needed a moment to steady her heart so she could speak. She hadn't expected this, her mind running in ten different directions at the same time, but she wanted to give Lena an answer. Give her all the answers.

“When I was a child, my planet was dying,” Kara began, the words shy and a little awkward in her mouth. “My… p-parents sent me to Earth to protect, to protect—”

Rao, this was much harder than she had anticipated. She swallowed hard, and Lena squeezed her hand.

“Do you… remember them?” she asked tentatively. “Your parents?”

Kara nodded, her free hand automatically going to her neck and feeling for the delicate chain around it. “Yeah,” she breathed. “I was thirteen.”

Lena’s lip wobbled, but she pulled it up into a warm smile, both of her hands holding Kara’s now. Holding tight. She scooted a little closer.

Kara smiled back, watery and feeling all over the place. Blinking hard, she glanced up at the night sky; at the few stars visible to spite the lights of the big city and its sleepless, undying brightness. If it were still here, she wondered, where would Krypton be now? Which way would she have to turn her head? She didn’t know. And, not knowing felt like a black hole opening up right at her middle.

Lena squeezed her hand again, gentle and comforting, and Kara looked back at her, finding her own anguish mirrored on Lena’s pretty face. Then she remembered, and wondered, and her hand squeezed Lena’s right back.

“Do… do you?” she asked. “Remember yours?”

Lena shook her head. “It’s… more of a feeling,” she said slowly. “My mother. Some… flashes. Nothing that feels… real?”

Kara made a sympathetic noise. “And your…?”

Lena shrugged. “I’m not sure who he is. The only father I’ve ever known was Lionel.” Lena looked at their linked hands. “I’m not sure what’s worse, having no memories or having them?”

“Yeah,” Kara said. “Yeah.” She blew out her cheeks.

Silence followed. Thoughtful silence that didn’t feel as heavy as it might have any other night. Or with any other person.

“I can’t believe you actually… carried an airplane, Kara,” Lena said into it after a while, her voice steady and thick with something akin to awe. “Or _flew_. By yourself.”

Kara lifted a shoulder and let it drop.

“It’s so… preposterous to common sense, but I know… I know I saw… I just can’t wrap my head around it.”

“You, me, and most of National City,” Kara said, a bad attempt at a cheeky grin following her words. “Alex wasn’t a fan either. She—”

“Oh, I didn’t say I wasn’t a fan. Just—”

Kara cocked her head, another thought coming back to her. “The plane. Why were you—? You were leaving?”

Lena’s hand twitched in hers. “You know that already, don’t you?”

“I do, but… why?”

Lena shook her head. She sighed. “Kara, Metropolis is… it’s the only place I can go and, … and then maybe one day she will—” She broke off, and Kara was kind enough to pretend she didn’t notice the fresh tears glistening in Lena’s eyes, or the way her whole frame seemed to be curling in on itself. “I didn’t want to, but… believe me, it’s just… better this way? For everyone. I— I shouldn’t have come here in the first place. It’s… I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

“No, I'm not buying that. You like it here.” Kara felt she was both stating the obvious and pleading for a lifeline. “Please, Lena, don’t leave on my account. You… you just got here?”

“It’s got nothing to do with… I have… business obligations.”

“Yeah, right here,” Kara countered. “L-Corp is right here.”

She was right here. They were.

Lena didn’t look at her, she was looking everywhere but at her, and something in the back of her mind sounded an alarm, but Kara didn’t know what it was for. Whatever it was, it made her stomach churn.

“There has to be a reason you left Metropolis?” She tried again. “And I think there’s also a reason you're… running away now.” Kara didn’t want to test her luck, but she had to say it. “I don’t know what you’re running from. But if it’s me, Lena, I swear, you don’t have to! I won’t, I wouldn’t—! You could just—”

“I am not running away!” Lena protested, but it was feeble. Like she didn’t believe herself. “And it’s not you... it’s me. I don’t… I don’t belong here.”

Kara took a breath, licked her lips. “Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Bullshit.”

Lena’s eyes glazed over, and she looked out over the city, cheeks glistening and her chest heaving with agitation. She let out a shaky breath.

“You callin' my bluff?” she whispered, so quiet even Kara, having extra-human hearing and sitting right next to her, almost missed it.

“You bet I am,” she whispered back. “You’re right where you’re supposed to be. We both are.”

Lena lifted her eyes to hers then, and the night seemed to still around them. It was less dark now, the light of the new morning already inching towards the blackish blue.

“You really think so?” she asked disbelievingly.

Kara nodded, watching Lena closely.

The tiny, tremulous smile she gave her before dropping her eyes again, and the way she chewed nervously at the pink plumpness of her lower lip. The nervous shuffle of her knees and legs as she moved closer.

Lena inhaled audibly, and Kara tried not to think about the feel of her skin, the smell of her hair, the taste of her lips. How Lena had moved in her arms, on top of her, beneath her. How she had kissed her. How much she loved her.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” Without so much as a warning, Lena flung her arms around her, and Kara gave a startled laugh and hugged her back, pulling Lena close. “I… I thought I’d never see you again, and—”

“I missed you too.”

Lena in her arms, Kara’s body was buzzing, her mind awed. She smiled and breathed deeply. This was even better than flying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is pretty much where the movie ends and the show begins. 
> 
> Thoughts? 😎


	23. The Cape

She didn’t want to go. She didn't want to leave Lena. But they both needed some sleep and they had agreed to continue their conversation the next day.

So, Kara flew back. It was so much quicker than taking a taxi or waiting for the first bus, and, while it was almost morning by the time they had said their temporary goodbyes, it was still dark enough. At least that was what she told herself as she zoomed across the city and back to her apartment.

However, Kara didn’t sleep. She couldn’t possibly. She had some cereal, did the dishes, watched National City speculate about the ‘mystery flying woman’ on TV some more, and then spent the next half of an hour talking to Eliza on the phone. Eliza had called to make sure she was alright; to voice both her concern and support.

She didn’t ask why Kara had gone after the plane, Kara realized only after the call had ended. Perhaps, Alex had already filled her in. Perhaps, the why didn’t matter all that much.

Only, of course it _mattered_ , because there was nothing more important to Kara than Lena, Lena safe and sound, but, now that it had finally happened, her revealing her true identity felt like something that had been inevitable from the very moment her pod had closed and taken her on this journey. It felt right. It felt overdue. And, despite whatever happened next, she hadn’t felt this calm or this happy in a long time.

Her joy wasn’t bubbly, wasn’t bright smiles and laughter, but a quiet, private kind of joy that radiated from her chest and warmed her body from within. She was happy, she was okay. Everything would be okay.

Struck by a sudden desire to… connect, Kara looked for her diary.

She tried telling her mother about all that had happened in the last 24 hours, but the words came out clunky and clumsy, and were falling short. It wasn’t enough. Written words simply weren’t enough.

Stopping her retelling of the night’s events mid-sentence, Kara got up from the couch once more and went rummaging through boxes and drawers until she had found what she was looking for: a box of matches and a candle. It was a big red candle, more Christmas than prayer, but it would have to do. It wasn’t like she would ever find the right votive candles on Earth anyway.

Kara lit the candle and watched the little flame flicker, persevere, and grow stronger. She sank to her knees, kneeling in the middle of the room and facing East.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. The air smelled of sandalwood and candle wax, and, although it wasn’t true to her memories, it filled her heart with warmth and her mouth with words.

“ _Though We go forth alone, Our soul unites us under Rao's gladsome Rays. We are never lost, never afraid, for we shrink not under the Sun of Righteousness. Rao binds us to those we love_ —” Turning her back to the city, she prayed to Rao in the language of her forefathers, the words warm honey in her mouth as she bowed down with her hands on her knees. “ _He gives us strength when we have none_ —”

Touching her forehead to the floor in deep gratitude, thanking the All-Powerful for his guidance—guidance that had given her the strength to save so many lives—she let the previous night replay in her mind, inviting all the sounds and smells and feelings back in one last time before letting them go for good. She exhaled.

“ _And in the darkest places, He guides us._ ”

Kara lifted her gaze slowly, gradually. Almost feeling her mother’s hands guiding hers, she reached for the candle in front of her and sat back on her heels, holding her little light carefully and watching the flame dance to the rhythm of her breathing. 

“ _For Rao sees all, feels all, his love eternal. Rao, protect us so that We might protect others; and We shall rise, a Fire in His Hearth, burning and free_.”

She heard herself speak the words, old and familiar and comforting, her voice so much like her mother’s, and yet not quite. Alura Zor-El was in her pitch, her pace, and her tone. She was in her blood. And she would forever be in her heart.

Kara sat and watched the candle burn down lower for a long while, her eyes riveted on the flame, but her mind far away.

She was both. That had always been her truth. But, sitting in the middle of her National City apartment on a Saturday morning in sweatpants and a T-shirt, her mind filled with ancient prayer and song older than the solar system that she now called her home, Kara could feel it for the first time in years, perhaps ever. She was Kara Zor-El, last daughter of Krypton and the Great House of El, and she was Kara Danvers, daughter of Eliza and Jeremiah, and little sister to Alex.

She was both. And the thought no longer split her in half, but made her feel whole.

The sound of her phone buzzing away on the kitchen table broke the moment and her concentration, and Kara took another deep breath, blew out the candle, and got to her feet.

“Yes, Danvers?”

Heavy breathing greeted her, reminding Kara of a rhinoceros or, perhaps, a sea lion. “Ponytail, watcha doing sitting on your ass? Get it in here!”

The line clicked, and Kara stared at her phone. Alright then.

She much rather would have spent the rest of her Saturday with Lena, but she was already in enough trouble, wasn’t she, and Snapper would have her head twice in a row if she dared ignore the summons.

Sighing, she changed into a more appropriate pair of pants and put on a soft cardigan over her shirt, almost forgetting to put on her glasses too, before she dashed out the door. She always kept spares— in coat pockets, bags, and drawers at home and at work. She didn’t go through her glasses quite as fast as she had as a teen anymore, but she had learned the hard way that she better come prepared or suffer the consequences, and now Kara was glad for the foresight.

The ride on the subway took an unbearable eternity and a half. When she finally entered the bullpen, CatCo was abuzz. With people rushing about, phones ringing, and the same footage playing on all the TV monitors that had dominated every news channel since last night.

Reassuring herself that her glasses were still where they needed to be, Kara hurried to her desk. She only had time to drop her bag, turn on her computer, and send a quick text to Lena, before Miss Grant stepped off her elevator and cut through CatCo like a whip, snapping her fingers and everyone into her office behind her.

“Our top story,” she said, once everyone had gathered. “The _only_ story anyone's talking about. Who is the ‘mystery flying woman’ who saved the plane?” Her fingers drummed out an impatient rhythm on the table. “Come on, people! Leads, ideas—?! What have we got?”

“They tried,” one of the senior reporters said. “No one has been able to identify who, or rather, what she is.”

“Unacceptable.” Miss Grant’s eyes flashed, but her voice remained calm and controlled. “I know many of you are used to being second best but it's new to me. The most incredible event in the history of National City and yet we have no exclusive of any kind.” She glared at each of them in turn— as if every single one of them was personally responsible for the situation and had better come up with a way to rectify it within the next few minutes. Kara felt the tips of her ears grow hot. “We don't have much to go on.” Cat jerked her head at the largest screen behind her. “Unfortunately, the image we're working off is low res.”

“My guess is she's around 5'9”. Hard to say with her height measured up against an airplane,” William piped up. “Hair color brown. Or black.”

Kara glanced at him. Close enough for height, but dead wrong about her hair.

Next to her, Nia cleared her throat. “Or maybe her hair is just dirty? You know, from soot. The plane exhaust. She could very well be—”

Feeling herself blush fiercely and unable to do anything about it, Kara made a decision on the spot and stepped on Nia’s toes. Not hard enough to hurt her, just to get her to shut up before she accidentally blew her cover. She might be okay with who she was—the alien and the human parts of her—but Kara wasn’t so sure she wanted her biggest secret revealed at her place of work just yet. If ever. Kal-El was still Clark at The Planet, wasn’t he?

“Ow! What—?” Nia looked round at her, but before the whimpered complaint had fully died on her lips or Kara had a chance to explain, Cat said, “Nia, you make an excellent point.” She smiled at her, then addressed the room at large again. “Do we think there's any connection between this hero and—?”

“The big guy in blue?” Snapper grunted. He laughed. It sounded more like a bark or a growl, and faces turned to the back of the room, where the editor stood leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. “Doubt it.”

Kara’s heart had fluttered and soared high at hearing Cat refer to her as a ‘hero’, but then Snapper’s sneering comment had clipped her wings and knocked her right out of the skies again.

“Exactly,” William said. “What, Metropolis gets _him_ and what does National City get? Some rookie superhero? A girl scout?”

Kara glared at him. She had to do something, say something, but she didn’t trust herself right now.

“I don't know,” Nia said slowly, but loud enough to hold her own. “Not that he ever mentioned… _relations_ , right?” Her hand was on Kara’s back—suddenly, and burning a hole in her cardigan, right between her shoulder blades—and Kara only just kept herself from jumping in surprise. She bit her lip, not daring to look at Nia. “But _if_ she's anything like him, she _is_ a hero. Saving people is what they're born to do. She'll be back.”

She lifted her chin, daring anyone in the room to contradict her, and Kara felt a strong fondness for her friend ignite and glow in her chest. The brief look they shared then, between shallow breaths, wasn’t enough to figure out what Nia knew, or maybe just suspected. If her righteous outrage was on a stranger’s behalf rather than a friend’s— Kara would almost have preferred it. Almost. Either way, she was impressed. And so was Miss Grant, it seemed.

“Hmm. She better be,” she said, her eyes resting on Nia. “This girl is the answer. She is exactly what I need to bring CatCo Magazine to the next level. Besides fatty foods, there is nothing people love more than a hero.” She turned to the screens and made a sweeping gesture. “We are going to blow her up. We will feature her online and in the paper, but we need images, we need video, we need an interview, and exclusive content.” She paused for a second, uncharacteristically winded, and took a breath before continuing and shooing everyone out with both hands and a decisive nod as she spoke. “So go. Go get me that girl.”

“It's funny,” Nia whispered in Kara’s ear as they turned to leave. “That was the first thing _he_ did. Save a plane, I mean.”

Kara stared at her friend.

Nia looked pleased, almost smug as she linked her arm through Kara’s. “Still, _very_ cool.”

Before Kara could utter more than a flustered “Uh-huh”, Miss Grant’s voice called her back.

“Wait. Kara, a word?”

Feeling her heart jump into her throat, Kara turned back around. “Y-yes, Miss Grant?” she rasped.

Miss Grant waited until Nia had left the office and closed the door behind her. Then she motioned Kara into a seat and sat down behind her desk. By now, Kara’s heart had dropped right through into her stomach and was doing somersaults that left her feeling slightly nauseous. Did Cat know? Like, _know_ know? Or was this about—?

“I see you finally decided to finish that assignment.” Cat’s expression remained unreadable, and Kara felt herself beginning to sweat as she stared at her hands in her lap. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Miss Grant, I can explain, I—” she swallowed.

“There will be no need, Kara,” Cat said, watching her carefully. “I gave you that assignment… decades ago, and, to be quite honest with you, I was beginning to lose hope.” She gave her a smile; a smile that started out strong and sharp, but softened when warm brown eyes searched Kara’s nervous blue. “But, no matter. Here you are. Finally. Figured it out, by the looks of it?”

Kara’s mind was blank. She couldn’t for the life of her understand how Cat had found out, and this quickly too. And, if Cat knew, who else was aware that she had just landed a plane from the outside, and with her bare hands? _Everyone_?

“Oh, Jesus, Kara, don’t look so shocked,” Cat said, tilting her head. “I’m not making… assumptions. You wrote it yourself. You are clearly in love with—”

Kara’s head snapped up, and her ears caught fire. Oh. _Oh_. This was about… Lena. 

“I… um, uh—” Snapping her mouth shut helped to stop her from stammering like an idiot, but did nothing for the merciless heat burning away in her cheeks.

“I expect an invitation to the wedding.” Cat slid her hands slowly backwards and forwards along the edge of her desk, watching Kara with the hint of a twinkle in her eyes. “Don’t make me wait for an assignment again.”

“Yes, Miss Grant. Uh, no? I mean, no, I—”

Kara still couldn’t think, the word _wedding_ bouncing around her empty head, all white and frilly, and conjuring up images like postcards from inside a snow globe. 

Cat shook her head, but she was smiling again, or smiling still, smiling at Kara in that knowing way, and Kara was absolutely and utterly lost. What… what was happening? Had she just—? She was clearly missing something. Probably the point. Or several. Points.

“Your article isn’t what I expected, it is better. It shows me you’re ready to be unleashed,” Cat went on, as if unaware she was carrying the entire conversation and leaving no chance at respite for Kara’s flushed face. “So shoo, and find me our flying girl already. Chop-chop!”

It took too long for the words to register, and when they finally did, Kara still couldn’t move. She looked at Cat, at the tips of her own shoes, at her twisted fingers, and back at Cat’s face again.

“T-Thank you,” she breathed, not sure what else she could say and, somehow, finding herself overwhelmed with emotion. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. Embarrassed, she wiped at them, but the feeling remained. “I— You… you really think she’s… you know?” She took a shaky breath. “If, _if_ she is like him, she has got big boots to fill. That’s a lot of… pressure.”

Last night, the decision to save the plane had been easy. There had been no alternative. Kara wasn’t sorry she had done it. However, it was beginning to dawn on her just how… big this could get, how much responsibility would rest on her shoulders if she kept walking, or rather flying, on this new path she had chosen to take.

“She could do it in heels, and I’d still back her up.”

Kara blinked. “W-why? What if she isn’t… ready?”

Cat sighed heavily. “Kara, if I had a dollar for every time one of you Millennials told me you weren’t ready, I’d buy myself one of those damn yachts and sail off into the sunset with a crew of personal chefs and the best massage therapists money can buy, and—”

Alarmed, Kara’s eyes dropped to Cat’s desk. A stack of papers, a coffee cup, hand sanitizer, flowers,... “What makes you think… she’s a Millennial?”

“Oh, just a feeling,” Cat said, and Kara could hear the smirk in her voice. “You know, the tingly kind one gets in their little toe before it rains.”

“Maybe she’s not.”

“That’s for you to find out and report back to me, isn’t it?” Cat said, and Kara bit her lip. This was a disaster bound to happen. She couldn’t very well interview herself. But she also couldn’t not do the assignment. Not again.

She nodded and got to her feet. “Right. I’ll— I’ll get right on that.” 

“When you find her, ask her what she thinks of the name ‘Supergirl’. It’s already trending on social media.”

At Cat’s words, Kara whirled back around. Supergirl? Super _girl_? Unbidden, her mind went back to the meeting and to the way Snapper had sneered and William had called her a girl scout. Wouldn’t a different name, wouldn’t Super _woman_ , at least—

“I didn’t ask for your opinion on the matter,” Cat said, her voice a little firmer. “But since your face insists on giving it anyway, what, according to Kara Danvers, is wrong with ‘Supergirl’?”

Kara gripped the back of the chair she had just vacated, unsure of why the moniker bothered her so much and if she should even try and attempt an explanation when she didn’t fully understand it herself. “A female superhero. Shouldn't— shouldn't she be called Super _woman_?” she stammered, not meeting Cat’s gaze. When Cat didn’t say anything, she exhaled and went on, “If… if we call her ‘Supergirl,’ when… when she’s… more than that, doesn't that make us… well, anti-feminist?”

“Oh, _darling_.” Cat clicked her tongue, and Kara risked a glance before staring down at the seat cushion again. She hadn’t just called Cat Grant— _the_ Cat Grant—anti-feminist, had she? Oh no, she hadn’t. “I know my answer to that… question, but, alright, humor me. What, pray tell, do you think is so bad about ‘Girl’?”

“Huh?”

“Food for thought, Kara.” Cat got to her feet and walked around her desk to lean against it. “I’m a girl. And your boss, and powerful, and rich, and hot and smart. So if you perceive ‘Supergirl’ as anything less than she is, anything less than excellent, isn't the real problem you?”

Stunned, Kara mulled that over for a moment. Yes, she was being silly. There was nothing wrong with being a girl. Girls were strong, and smart, and beautiful. Like Cat. Like Lena.

“You’re right,” she said, lifting her eyes carefully. “I just… isn’t it all a bit… premature? We don’t even know if she is… _super_ yet?”

Cat raised both eyebrows, and Kara knew she had crossed a line, even though she wasn’t entirely sure which one it was.

“Kara. So far I haven’t yelled. And I very much wish to keep it that way,” Cat said. “Pay attention. We just went over this question two minutes ago.”

“S-Sorry,” Kara said quickly. “I guess… we’ll just have to find out?”

“Oh, we will.” Cat’s finger pointed her to the door and, this time, Kara took the hint.

“Right. Sorry. I’m sorry. And thank you, Miss Grant.”

Cat’s parting request to ‘ _stop apologizing, for God’s sake, Kara!_ ’ still ringing in her ears, Kara hurried back to her desk and sat down. Resting her head in her hands, she took a few steadying breaths.

Right. Perhaps, she was making this harder than it had to be. Sure, she couldn’t interview herself and, yes, she wasn’t actually sure she _wanted_ to be interviewed or that she _should_ _allow_ herself to be, but there were people in her life who would help her figure it out.

She would talk to Alex and Eliza about it, maybe even ask Clark for his opinion (he liked to give it, so that shouldn’t be a problem.). And, she would talk to Lena. Lena had experience with being on the other side of a microphone and clicking camera lenses. Lena knew all the snares and pitfalls of being a public figure. And she knew her. She knew Kara better than she probably thought she did.

Yes, Lena was the person Kara most wanted to see, needed to see, as soon as possible.

She claimed to be meeting a source—a passenger on 237— to get Snapper off her back. Lena had been aboard Flight 237 and she was meeting her to talk about last night, so, technically, she wasn’t lying this time, which helped.

After a quick pit stop at Noonan’s, she was on her way across town. About halfway there, while changing busses for the third time, Kara regretted the public transport idea. Kara Danvers didn’t make enough money to afford cab fare regularly and Kara Zor-El would be smart to lay low until Kara-Kara had made up her mind about what she wanted to do, but still, at the rate she was going, it would be nightfall by the time she made it to Lena’s.

When she finally arrived and had a friendly doorman named Tom hold the elevator for her and press the button, it was late afternoon, and Kara felt exhausted from the close proximity to so many noisy humans while stuck in moving sardine cans together. 

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and knocked on Lena’s door.

It only took a moment. Kara heard the shuffle of papers, something heavy being dropped and hitting the floor, then hurried footsteps growing louder.

The door opened, there was Lena, and all the tension in Kara’s shoulders seemed to be leaving her body in a silent whoosh.

“I think I messed up, Lena.”

“Well, good afternoon to you too.” Lena’s lip twitched, then settled into half a smile. “Would you like to come in first?” She stepped aside, softly waving Kara into her apartment. Kara’s heeled boots clacked on the marble flooring, forming a strange rhythm with the clicking of Lena’s stilettos as she followed her, and she paused after a few steps, unsure whether to take them off or not.

“Whatever is fine,” Lena said, looking over her shoulder. “I always… forget too. Oh, well.”

Shrugging, she reached back to take off her heels and tossed them in the direction of a heavy silver coat rack, leaving her feet bare. The monstrous thing reminded Kara of a multiple-armed, giant cactus with strange ornaments and figurines as superfluous hands. It didn’t exactly scream Lena, and there were no coats or hats on it.

“Tea?” came Lena’s voice from somewhere further inside the apartment. It was a little wobbly— even on the lone syllable.

“Um, yes, please?” Kara called back, hurrying to untie her shoelaces and leaving her shoes with Lena’s, before she padded out into a ginormous living room.

“Whoa,” she muttered. Contrary to her expectation, the marble was warm under her feet and she curled her toes as she stood, looking around in awe. “That’s a whole lot of white.”

It was the understatement of the year. Speaking of snow globes, Kara felt like she had just stepped into one. Minus actual snow, of course. Almost everything in Lena’s home was white. The living-room set in the middle of the room and the dining chairs, the flowers on the little round glass tables, most of the few throw pillows (Kara counted two that weren’t white, but light grey), and even the shaggy rugs separating the little groups of furniture by their primary function. There they sat, like little white isles of purpose in a sea of marble.

The bar stools by the kitchen island, behind which Lena currently busied herself preparing their tea, at least, were two-colored, mahogany backs and white seats, but the wallpaper above the kitchen unit matched the floor.

The only speck of color in all that blinding, pristine white was a green thing sitting in a flowerpot atop one of the glass tables, tucked away in a corner and close to the floor-to-ceiling window. It was a tiny thing, looking a little windswept, with two stubborn leaves stretching towards the spotlight dangling from the ceiling.

Kara grinned. “Hey, Albert!” She said, crossing the room and bending down to look more closely. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Be careful with him,” Lena cautioned. “He’s a bit… testy.”

“Oh, how so?” Kara looked up at Lena, who had set two steaming mugs (yes, white) of tea on a round tray (also white) and picked it up to carry.

“Some kind of… acid?” Lena gave a non-committal jerk of the head, followed by an apologetic smile. “Maybe it’s just me.”

“Oh, you naughty little root, Albert,” Kara chided playfully. “You’re not supposed to _attack_ Lena, silly. She’s the one taking care of you.”

“Well, barely,” Lena’s voice admitted from somewhere behind Kara. She had left her tray on the coffee table and stepped closer, but kept a safe distance. “He’s right to be a little… cross with me.” She sighed. “Nemo, turn on solar lamp,” she said, and before Kara could ask who she was talking to, the hanging spotlight above Albert switched on, bathing the little plant in a patch of man-made sunlight.

Kara reached for it, sticking her hand in between the lamp and the plant for a moment. It felt nice, warm and tingly on her skin, and Kara wondered if these lamps came in bigger sizes too.

“Say thank you, Albert,” Kara said, withdrawing her hand. Then she turned to face Lena. “He’ll come around.”

“It’s okay. I do deserve it.” Lena screwed up her face, holding up her hands in surrender, and only now did Kara notice the bandage. Not thick, but unmistakably there, wrapped securely around Lena’s hand and covering her palm.

Kara felt herself inflate with indignation. “You’re in trouble, Mister!” she said in Albert’s direction, only pocketing that pointer finger again after having sufficiently wagged it at the troublemaker.

“Kara,” Lena laughed, the sound like a sweet melody in Kara’s ears. “He’s just a plant. Let’s sit?”

They did. Lena’s leather couch was surprisingly comfy, if a little cool. Kara made a mental note to bring over some nice fuzzy blankets next time. If she mentioned the less-than-homey state of Lena’s apartment to Eliza in passing, she could also guarantee for one of Eliza’s beautiful knitted blankets ending up under the Christmas tree with Lena’s name on the box.

“I’m glad we’re talking again,” Lena began, pulling her sleeves down over her hands. “I could have… I should have handled it better.”

“It’s my fault,” Kara said at once. It was true. Lena had done nothing wrong. This mess was all her. “I should have been honest with you from the start. That you’re even willing to talk to me—”

They watched Lena’s hands fidget. “Why… weren’t you?”

No matter how gently Kara tried to catch Lena’s gaze, make her lift her head and look at her, Lena’s eyes stayed glued to her lap. Her fingers were braided together, but had stilled, and Kara could hear her heart beat a little harder and a little faster in her chest.

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “First, I was… overwhelmed. And then… after what happened with the Planet… I didn’t want to lose you, Lena.”

Lena looked up then, her eyes glistening. The sight sent a jolt through Kara. “You wouldn’t have.” Lena’s voice was low and quiet, but Kara believed every word. If only she had asked sooner. “Sometimes… beginnings are like that, hmm?”

Kara nodded slowly. 

“And I’d rather have met you this way than not at all, Kara.”

Now it was Kara’s turn to get teary-eyed. “Yeah,” she rasped, not willing to go anywhere near any alternate reality in her head in which she and Lena had never met. She’d rather live this one over and over again. “Can you forgive me, Lena?” Kara’s hands found Lena’s before she had a chance to answer. “Please. I’d do anything.”

Lena smiled, then nodded. “Promise me one thing?”

“Anything!”

“There can be no more secrets between us, okay? I have to be in on everything. If anything happened to you, and I didn’t—”

“Of course! That’s why I am here, to talk to you, to tell you—” Kara broke off, momentarily confused by Lena’s agitated expression. It wasn’t so much her face, really, but it was swimming in her eyes: loss, fear, a silent plea not to be hurt again. Kara swallowed. “Wait, what do you mean, ‘if anything happened’—?”

“Well, you’re not going back to just being a reporter, are you?”

“No. I… I don’t think I can do that.”

Lena nodded. She had expected the answer. “And I wouldn’t ask you to. But Kara, people get hurt out there. Especially people wearing capes. We have to make sure… I couldn’t bear it if—”

Kara squeezed Lena’s hands, mindful of the injured one. “Capes, Lena?”

There was a soft blush in Lena’s cheeks now, but her voice was firm. “Yes, capes. They—” She gestured at the TV over the mantle. It was off, but Kara knew what she meant— “are calling you a hero. And you are! Just… last time I checked, being a hero isn’t a one-time job, now is it?”

“I guess not.”

“See. So… we need to come prepared.”

Kara hadn’t missed how Lena exclusively referred to them as a unit. Never ‘you’, never ‘I’, always ‘we’. It warmed her heart. But, at the same time, every new ‘we’ made her stomach turn and twist over some previously non-existent fear. ‘We’ meant Lena too. If she, Kara, got hurt, so would Lena. She could not let that happen. Ever.

“Yeah.”

Oh, she would get ready. She would… train and… yes, how exactly did one go about getting ready for the job? It wasn’t like there was a ‘training’ part in the job description, was there? No, there was no manual for any of this. Unless she counted her cousin, which she didn’t really want to do. She wanted to do this her way. Kal-El’s experiences and advice would only get her so far, anyway. But what exactly was ‘her way’? How could she make sure—?

Kara frowned, and Lena gave a little laugh again, just a single chime, born from tension rather than amusement, but enough to bring Kara back to the reality of her living room.

“So, you said, you were Kryptonian,” Lena said slowly. “I assume that means heat-vision and freeze-breath on top of flight and strength? Or… does it depend on… the individual in question?”

“Uh, I—” Kara spluttered, taken aback. But of course, Lena knew. Most people did. “That’s a yes to all four? Assuming. I’ve never really done the breath thing.” She felt herself blush. “And the heat-vision is a bit… wonky?”

“That’s okay,” Lena said, gently stroking Kara’s hand. “First thing we should focus on is your disguise, anyway. You know, for safety?”

“Disguise? You mean… a suit?”

“Yes. That too. You need… work-wear?” Lena grinned. “But those glasses—” She jerked her head, and Kara touched a hand to the lead frame sitting atop her nose on instinct. “Won’t cut it.”

“Works for my cousin!” Kara protested, feeling rather protective of Jeremiah’s ingenious invention. No one at CatCo had looked at her funny this morning. Except, maybe Nia. And Cat. But that wasn’t the glasses’ fault. The glasses worked fine.

“Oh-kay,” Lena breathed, leaning back. She seemed to shrink away, her legs tucked up under her. Her eyes were wide when Kara looked at her. “Your… he’s your, you are—” She shook her head in bewildered disbelief. Or perhaps mild shock. “ _Superman_ … is your cousin?!”

“Yes,” Kara confirmed. “I should probably have led with that?”

“Right. Okay.” Lena’s voice was thin, as if it had been squeezed through somewhere tight or painful, and Kara saw that shadow again—the same one from last night—clouding Lena’s eyes and pulling the corners of her mouth and her eyebrows down. “No wonder, you didn’t— you know. After what Lex—”

She could barely get the name out, and Kara scooted closer until their knees were touching and she could easily put an arm around Lena. When she did, however, Lena stiffened, and Kara let it sink again, tipping up Lena’s chin instead, so she would meet her eyes.

“Lena, No. You are not Lex,” she said. “I know that.”

“But—”

Kara shook her head vehemently. “I don’t care what… what the boys did, we’re _girls_ , Lena.”

Lena gave a wet chuckle. “Okay, yes, last time I checked—”

“Oh, you know what I mean!”

“I really don’t,” Lena teased. She was almost smiling again. “So, it hasn’t crossed your mind? Who my family is? The… bad blood? Because, it’s okay if it has. It’s okay if it bothers you. I understand.”

“I promise; I’d tell you if it did. It doesn’t.”

Lena sighed. “It should. But I’m glad it doesn’t.”

“Clark, on the other hand—” Kara said, wincing a little as she realized what she had just done, but standing by her decision all the same. This was Lena. She would not hurt her. Or Kal-El.

“Wait. Clark? Clark Kent? Daily Planet?” Lena gaped at her. “Oh, I knew his face looked familiar. But, Kara, you can’t just— you have to be more careful with who you tell these things? Please?”

“Unless Albert is a spy for the other side,” Kara said, grinning at her own silly joke. “It’s still only the two of us here. And I just told you, _I’m_ okay with that.”

Lena bit her lip. “But he isn’t?”

“Pfft. He’s a… real… _doofus_ sometimes.” Kara rolled her eyes. “He’ll come around too.”

Lena didn’t look convinced, but Kara just had to believe everything would be okay, history, bad blood, and all. She had just put herself together, finally, and it would tear her apart to be forced to choose. She wouldn’t choose.

“Anyway, a suit? Really?”

Lena worried her lip, clearly torn over something, but then she took a deep breath. “Yes, every superhero needs one. And there’s something I need to show you.”

Surprised but curious, Kara let herself be led to a large double door that she had completely missed coming in, even though one half of it stood slightly ajar.

“Nemo, bedroom lights,” Lena said, and, at her word, the soft glow of bedside lamps and the light of a lighted mirror above a dressing table lit up the room behind the door.

Where the rest of her apartment was predominantly white, Lena’s bedroom was dark, soothing colors. Shades of grey for the furniture and carpet. Black curtains and black-and-white bedding.

The room would have looked just as untouched, almost like it belonged in a hotel and not a home, if it weren’t for all the books, notebooks, and papers that lay higgledy-piggledy on every surface, and the many scraps of colorful fabric and other materials strewn across the bed and trailing across the floor. Kara followed the color-trail to a sewing machine that stood against one wall. It was a very old one, a treadle on a beautiful pedal table, ornate and shiny. It wouldn’t have looked out of place in an exhibit at the museum, but, if the piece of fabric pinned by the needle was any indication, this piece of art was still fully operational— with Lena being the one to operate it.

Awed, Kara looked at Lena. Lena who stood, face adorably red and smiling shyly, shifting her weight from one leg to the other.

“Maybe don’t look too closely,” she mumbled. “I should have—”

Kara looked between Lena and the crumpled heap of fabric on her bed, realizing that not all of it was scraps and pieces, but some of it turned out to be capes, and skirts, and pants. The largest piece seemed to be a one-piece suit, blue, with the sleeves and part of the legs still missing.

“Lena!” Kara exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Did you—? Oh my Gods, this is AMAZING.”

Lena blushed even harder, but she looked relieved. Maybe even pleased. “I just… fiddled with a few things, that’s all.”

Kara let go of Lena’s hand and picked up the nearly-finished suit. The material was cool and soft to the touch, but sturdy. Definitely no cotton-blend. She turned to Lena. “Can I… try this on?” She grinned broadly.

“Sure.” Kara was so busy admiring the suit in her hands that she missed how Lena’s heart was doing a whole lot of hopping and skipping, making her sound slightly breathless. “I… I couldn’t decide whether to go with the top and skirt as separate pieces or have it all in one, pants no skirt. The one-piece should be better with aerodynamics, though. I mostly based the design off dolphins, but I think it should work? If my calculations are correct, anyway. I wasn’t sure how much drag factored in. That kind of depends. How fast exactly are you?”

“What?” Kara blinked, tearing her gaze away and focusing on Lena again.

“When you fly,” Lena clarified, an excited glow in her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes that Kara hadn’t seen before. “What’s your… flank speed? Because, if you can, in fact, break the sound barrier, I need to rethink this.” She picked up a long piece of red cloth that had been draped over the back of the sewing chair. A cape. “Structured polymer composite, but it needs to be sturdier still without dragging you down.” She bit her lip and looked up, and when Kara followed her line of vision, her eyes landed on a large electronic blackboard that spanned the entire top-half of the wall they were facing. The whole thing was covered in barely legible scribbles—calculations, half-finished thoughts—and Kara’s eyes only had to skim the first few lines to know just how much of a genius Lena truly was. Also, if she had done all this in less than 24 hours and post almost-plane-crash, she probably hadn’t slept at all.

The clatter and whirr of the sewing machine brought her back to the moment. Stepping up to stand behind Lena, Kara touched her back, rested her hands on her shoulders, and, finally, slipped her arms around her. Her chin on Lena’s shoulder, she watched Lena’s nimble fingers guide the material— dark red on blue. Under the table, Lena’s foot was pumping at the machine's pedal like she was keeping time to music.

“Did you sleep at all, Lena?”

Lena’s hands and feet didn’t slow down in the slightest, the tap-tap-tap keeping to its hypnotic rhythm. “Some,” she said, possibly deliberately vague. “I was up early.”

“Up and busy, hmm?”

Lena hummed in response, the sound blending with the machine’s.

“Thank you.” Kara turned her head and brushed Lena’s neck with her lips. “You are amazing. You know that?” Kara both felt and heard Lena get out of time for a beat or two, and she smiled against her skin. “But you don’t have to do this. You need to sleep, Lena.”

“You saved my life, Kara. The least I can do is help protect yours,” Lena said. “Just let me finish this?” She turned the piece that she was working on, and Kara’s heart—which had been happily dancing to the sewing machine’s drum—began to race.

What Lena was making; what her fingers and the needle helped the different pieces to become, was her family's coat of arms. The House of El.

 _El mayarah_. Stronger Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm voting— 
> 
> — How about you?


	24. The Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the pants definitely won. By a landslide. Pants it is then. Right now the girls have bigger problems though...

She was meticulous about the cape and the suit, running tests in her lab until all results were as close to one hundred percent as she could make them. Only then would she let Kara put everything on and take off from her balcony. They took it slow— a kitten up a tree, a car chase, a bank robbery. Kara had assumed she was bullet-proof, just like her cousin, and there was no other way to test that theory than to have bullets fly at her at full-speed, but Lena didn’t like it. It wasn’t until Kara returned from the bank—safe and sound, and with a big grin on her face—that Lena could breathe again.

She told herself she had to get used to it. To the fear brewing up a storm inside her chest whenever Kara was out there, alone; To the way the knots in her stomach twisted until Kara came back to her in one piece. She thought of Superman and Lois Lane, wondering how Lois could stomach it, day after day, year after year. The waiting, the wondering, the fretting.

When Kara was out there, she didn’t eat. She didn’t sleep.

Tonight was one of those nights. Ever since Kara had left to help with a fire downtown, Lena’s stomach was in knots. She didn’t worry about the fire hurting Kara (Kara had put her hand on the stove just to prove she could, earlier). What worried her was that Kara had left over twenty minutes ago and, according to the NCPD radio, the fire was still going.

Lena had stepped out onto her balcony and checked the sky for smoke. If the fire was this out of control, big enough that _Supergirl_ couldn’t extinguish it in a few seconds flat, surely there should be smoke. Lots and lots of smoke. Thick and heavy. People should be told to keep their windows shut.

And yet, there was no massive pillar of smoke; no low, suffocating blanket covering the city; no warning. Some sirens blared in the distance, but Lena couldn’t be sure that the vehicle or vehicles in question were headed downtown. 

Rubbing her arms and shifting her weight from one leg to the other, she scanned the skies again. No fire, no smoke, no Kara.

Leaning on the railing, staring at the mass of city lights, Lena took a deep breath to try and calm herself.

What if something _had_ gone wrong, though? What if Kara had stalled her freeze breath again? They had worked on it, but whenever she got flustered or was too in her head about it, Kara’s freeze breath would fizzle out, splutter like an empty can of whipped cream, or die on her completely.

But then, if it wasn’t working, why wasn’t Kara back yet?

More seconds that felt like centuries ticked by and, finally, Lena couldn’t take it anymore. She went back inside, closed the door, and stood in front of the radio scanner, listening. Hesitating.

They were still working on the fire. No one had mentioned Kara. Her sister’s girlfriend was on-scene.

Biting her lip, Lena wondered whether she should call Maggie. Or rather: find Kara’s phone and Maggie’s number inside it, and then call her. They’d gotten along quite well in Midvale. Well enough to call, certainly, but not too well to have Lena feel bad for having to fib. She’d have to come up with something. Just in case Maggie wasn’t in on the whole picture. Of course Kara’s sister was, and Maggie was her _girlfriend_ , so she _probably_ knew, but Lena hadn’t thought to ask Kara about it. She hadn’t asked her about who else was in on her secret. She hadn't asked, and now wouldn’t risk accidentally telling someone— just because she was a little antsy.

Looking around the room for a better idea than to call Detective Maggie Sawyer and bullshit her way through the conversation, Lena’s eyes landed on Kara’s glasses sitting on the table. Next to them, neatly folded and lying on a chair, were her work clothes. A pair of dress pants, a cardigan, a blouse. Lena ran her fingers over the soft fabric of the blouse, picked it up, and refolded it again— for the third time that evening.

“Pull yourself together,” she muttered to herself. She was being ridiculous. And stupid. She was being ridiculously dense. Eyes fixed on Kara’s unassuming black flats on the floor, Lena shook her head at herself.

There was no need for premature calls or mindless panic.

She strode over to the kitchen island, where her laptop sat, and opened it. After typing in a couple passcodes that were longer than her bank balance, Lena clicked on the little unassuming program she had written, and pulled up the CUI.

Her fingers hovering over the keyboard, she took a deep breath. Then she pinged the boots.

The answer came in under two seconds, coordinates appearing on her screen, white on black. So the tracker was working. Breathing a sigh of relief, Lena pushed her guilt down and opened a map.

She had meant to tell Kara about this, about the chip in the heel of her boot. She’d simply forgot. It was intended as a fail-safe, for emergencies only. Lena wasn’t sure tonight counted exactly, but she still needed to know. If everything was alright, they could view it as a test run.

Everything was not alright.

Kara, or at least her boots, were in the desert of all places; somewhere in the middle of nowhere and nothingness. Sand, nothing but sand.

Panic rising within her like bubbles, Lena checked the coordinates again. Yes, definitely the desert. The bubbles burst, and her mind went into crisis mode.

Okay, alright, okay. She whirled around. What could she do? Who could she call?

The private jet was out. Mother wasn’t speaking to her after she had refused point blank to set foot on another plane. And maybe Mother could not make her fly to Metropolis, but she sure as hell wouldn’t let her use the jet for anything else either. Not unless it took her straight to headquarters. Which it would, no matter what coordinates she gave the pilot. No, much too risky.

She could call Alex or Maggie, but it wasn’t like a lab assistant could do much about anything and, while the NCPD had helicopters, Lena wasn’t sure Maggie had access to one or would let her get anywhere near it if she did.

Lena thought of Kara’s phone again. Clark Kent’s number had to be in there somewhere. Could she call him? Ask him to check on Kara? A Luthor calling a Super for help would surely make for a memorable day. Her knowing about his secret identity, however, might be a problem. He wouldn’t like that. Not that Lena cared about his hurt feelings any if it helped Kara, but there was another reason she couldn’t involve Superman in this: Kara had asked her not to. She had been very clear about wanting to do this without him. She wanted to do things her own way.

If Lena called Superman for backup now, she’d do so against Kara’s explicit wishes. And, if, how part of her was still hoping, this was just a false alarm, then she would have done it over nothing.

No, Superman wasn’t an option either. Who or what did that leave her with?

Her frantic brain cells still in the vicinity of Superman and Lois Lane, her thoughts took a sharp turn and arrived at another name with the same zip code: Lucy. Lucy Lane.

They knew each other—all the well-connected families always did—and, while they weren’t friends, they had once bonded at a horrible family function; spilled their deepest darkest secrets to one another, sitting out on the porch steps in the dark and drinking too much whiskey —’borrowed’ from General Lane’s liquor cabinet— straight from the bottle. Like her, Lucy Lane had had overbearing parents and an older sibling, the golden child, who eclipsed her in every way imaginable, and who could do no wrong. Lucy still owed her for getting them out of trouble that night.

It was a long shot, but one worth taking.

Lena made the call, then called her driver to take her to L-Corp. Letting herself be taken to the family company, _her_ company, wouldn’t rouse suspicion. Mother wouldn't bat an eye if one of her rats reported it back to her, and neither would anyone else. They would, however, if they knew that she wasn’t going in for the pile of work still waiting on her desk, but had come only for the roof of the building. More specifically, the helipad.

Grabbing her phone, her computer, and the keys, she left her loft and rushed down the stairs. Taking the elevator would have been faster, but the thought of waiting for it, standing still for even a second too long, seemed unbearable, so she didn’t.

Most of L-Corp lay dark and silent, with only the cleaning crew hard at work. Lena nodded at a few people in passing, forced a smile or two. Growing up, she had been taught to ignore the help; to not talk to them unless it was absolutely necessary, which was precisely why she took a moment to talk to one of the ladies who vacuumed her floor, exchanging a couple pleasantries in her best Spanish. Mariflor beamed at her and wished her a nice evening, and Lena smiled back and ducked into her office. 

Once inside, she needed to regroup with a strong drink on ice and a preemptive Advil or two. Then she pinged Kara’s boots again (still the damn desert), memorized the coordinates, and wiped all traces off her hard drive and deleted the program.

After she was done, Lena turned around in her chair and stared out at the city without truly seeing any of it. She sat there, chewing her fingernails and twisting her hair around her fingers, until she heard a thumping sound in the distance.

Like a gunshot or a whistle, it was the starting signal her mind and body had been waiting for, and Lena bolted out of her chair at once and rushed up to the roof, throwing her shoulder against the door to get it to open. When it finally gave way, she stumbled out onto the roof and into the noisy night.

And what a beautiful noise it was! Shielding her eyes, Lena tipped her head back and searched the darkening skies again, this time hoping for shiny metal and spinning rotor blades rather than a flash of red and blue, and blonde hair flying in the wind.

As the whoop-whoop-whoop grew louder, Lena moved to where she could better see the helipad.

The chopper seemed to drop straight out of the clouds, hovering above L-Corp for a moment before it landed. A woman got off, all dressed in black, and Lena walked out onto the helipad to meet her.

“Lucy! Thank you so much for coming!” She had to raise her voice, nearly shouting, to be heard over the helicopter's racket. The wind from its blades blew her hair into her face and she wrestled with it for a moment, cursing her tendency to lose all her hair ties the instant she had bought them.

“Just tell me what was so important that I had to come here, Lena. What’s this all about? Where’s the emergency?”

“I wouldn’t have asked, if it weren’t important.”

“I know that,” Lucy said. “A Luthor asking for help. Must be a cold day in hell.” She grinned. “So.” She jerked her head at the black chopper waiting behind her. “What’s all this for, Luthor?”

Lena hesitated. “A rescue mission,” she said slowly. “Strictly off-book.”

Lucy gave her a look that spelled out ‘duh’ in big flashing letters. “Yeah, I got that,” she said. “But I’m not flying this thing anywhere else until you tell me what exactly is going on.”

Lena studied her face for a moment. Despite their last meeting being years ago, she remembered that half-smile, the twinkle in those green eyes. And, despite it being years ago, Lucy had come when she asked her to, just like she had promised when they were only teenagers. The Lanes were nothing if not true to their word. They were loyal and trustworthy. She could trust Lucy, couldn’t she?

“It’s a bit… delicate,” she began. “But someone I care about might be in deep trouble.”

Lucy shook her head, sending her curls flying. “I’m going to need more than that,” she said. “If we’re flying into some sort of… look, if you’re planning on penetrating hostile territory and expect a hotter reception—” She broke off and scrunched up her nose, pulling a face. “I just want to be prepared. That’s all.”

Lena nodded. That she understood. “I’ve got no idea,” she said truthfully. “But… whatever it is, it’s probably not… good. Might be quite the opposite, actually. And we might be on a clock.”

Lena wasn’t sure what time it was, but, by now, it had to be hours since she’d last seen Kara, waved after her from her balcony— and the thought sat inside her body like lead, heavy and slowly poisoning her from the inside out.

“Okay.” Lucy stood up a little taller. “You got a location?”

Lena nodded, and Lucy took a deep breath. “Alright then. Hop in, mind your head. But I want details on the way.”

“Thank you.” Lena kept her head low as she sprinted towards the chopper after Lucy.

Ignoring her churning stomach, she took the front seat by the pilot— who watched her out of those vigilant green eyes and smirked. Right, Lucy knew how to handle this flying deathtrap. It was just the two of them then.

She put on the passenger headset. Her heart was pumping, and her brain was screeching at her to get the fuck out and away from this thing. It was only her second time riding in a helicopter, and the first had been a memory she’d rather forget.

“Ready?” Lucy asked, her voice muffled in Lena’s ears, and Lena watched her settle in the cockpit and start the rotors.

Lena adjusted her headset as the noise level rose, then gawked out the window as the ground dropped away at an alarming rate. Feeling her stomach drop, then flip in some nauseating fashion, she quickly tore her eyes away, hefting them on the woman sitting beside her instead. Lucy’s face shone with delight as she took in the evening sky and the view. Ahead of them, the last light of day was a slash of fire at the horizon.

Lucy tapped her on the wrist then held up three fingers. When Lena looked at her stupidly, she pointed to the headphones.

Oh. Right. Lena switched to channel three.

“You okay there?” The question sounded a little tinny, and Lena wasn’t sure if the problem was with her ears or the headphones.

“I hate flying,” she mumbled.

Lucy gave her a pointed look. “If you’re going to… I can’t crack a window in here, okay?”

Lena let out a hollow laugh. If memory served her right, it had been she doing the hair-holding while someone else had done all the barfing. “Oh. Har-har.”

Lucy smirked. “Alright. So where’s that mystery hellhole we’re flying right into?”

Lena tried filling her in without revealing what she shouldn’t, walking the fine line between ‘just enough’ and ‘too much’ information like a tightrope. The more she said without saying anything, however, the quieter Lucy became. At first, Lena thought it a good thing, but fewer questions from Lucy only meant she already knew the answers, and that made Lena nervous.

“I can’t believe you’re dragging me along on a… rescue mission for a… a _Super_ ,” Lucy said finally, and, even through her slight panic, Lena caught the way her lips curled around the last word. Lucy made a face like she had something unpleasant stuck under her nose, and Lena understood nothing. Since when did the Lanes—?

“Only this one is wearing a skirt. Great.”

Lucy glanced at her, and Lena knew instantly that Lucy Lane knew. Not all the details, perhaps, but there was no use in denying any of the big stuff. 

“ _Supergirl_ ,” Lucy scoffed, and, for the first time, Lena felt the pit of annoyance in her stomach. Lucy didn’t even know Kara. What was her problem? “Jimmy can’t stop talking about either of them.”

Ah. There was the rub. A boyfriend. Lena smiled.

“You can tell him he’s barking up the wrong tree,” she said, aware that she was both overstepping and oversharing, but giving into the urge to set the record straight (or not so straight) immediately nonetheless.

“Come again?” Lucy’s eyes darted to her face. “ _Oh_. Oh, okay.” She took a moment, then grinned. “That helps.”

Lena watched her refocus on her navigational system, but then her eyes narrowed and she turned to her again, an incredulous look on her face. “Wait…”

Feeling herself blush, Lena looked down at her hands in her lap, and Lucy whistled through her teeth. She laughed. “Huh,” she said. “I bet _He_ ’s loving that.” Judging by her emphasis, there was no question who the ‘he’ in her statement was. “Well, the heart wants what it wants. He can deal.”

“Yeah. He’s not thrilled.”

“Lois needs to train him better.” When Lena looked up, surprised, Lucy rolled her eyes. “I’m not blind and I’m not dumb.”

Lena nodded. “The glasses don’t help.”

“No, they don’t.”

That was that on discussing Supers, secret identities, relationships, or covert rescue missions, apparently, for they fell silent for a long while after.

Despite still being worried for Kara, Lena relaxed a little. Lucy was Lois’ little sister. She knew how to handle information like this. She wouldn’t go blab to the press or whoever else was best kept in the dark.

They flew in silence. Lena had to admit Lucy was an excellent pilot, but, after this, she still wouldn’t set foot on a chopper ever again. Or a plane. Or anything else with wings, really. It would strictly be road trips or cruises for her from now on. Hell, she’d _walk_ wherever she wanted to go, if she had to.

“Don’t tell me…” Lucy said after another long while. “Crap.”

Lena looked down at darkness and nothing. Nestled in the dark, however was a cluster of buildings. Buildings that looked like a large industrial complex, maybe. Lights. Her heart jumped into her throat, fluttering like a trapped bird.

“My father is going to kill me,” Lucy muttered, color draining from her cheeks, and Lena’s mind flashed back to the night with too much whiskey, suddenly remembering another detail. They had taken Lois’ brand new MB coupé out for a spin and Lucy had put a dent in it, hitting a— what was it again? A tree? A deer? A stop sign?

“If this is what I think it is, I can’t land this thing anywhere near it,” Lucy’s voice said over the headphones. “We’d be shot on sight.”

Lena gave her a look. Like they’d shoot General Lane’s youngest daughter. The Lanes were a powerful family with a long military tradition, and Lucy was an army brat through and through. She had cut her teeth on camouflage and Orders of Merit.

“Like they’d shoot you!”

“Oh, believe me. If I bring this bird down without permission to land, they’ll blow us up faster than you can say ‘pink mist’.” There was no humor behind her words. “There’s at least… three interceptors locked in on us right now.” Lucy didn’t take her eyes off her instruments, but Lena saw the tip of her tongue dart out to wet her lips. “What the hell is this?! A black site?”

“God, I hope not.” Lena bit her lip, her mind lapping itself imagining all the horrors that could befall a person in such a place. Especially if said person was an alien. An alien stripped of all rights by default, because those in power deemed anyone different from themselves undeserving of kindness, compassion, or humanity. If Kara was in there, they couldn’t bring the chopper down fast enough. Lena would parachute, if she had to. Never mind that she’d die of a heart attack even before they could shoot her out of the sky.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Lucy was muttering under her breath. “Alright. Damn it to hell.” She looked at Lena, then reached for the radio transmitter. “This is worse than the car,” she said matter-of-factly. “So much worse.” She blew out her cheeks, then held the radio closer to her mouth.

“Tower, this is Black Hawk Alpha Bravo Three to base, requesting permission to land.”

The Tower signaled back at once. “Black Hawk Alpha Bravo Three, security clearance code not accepted. Permission not granted. Clear the airspace immediately.”

Lucy hesitated, then shook her head. “I repeat, this is Major Lucy Lane to base, flight Black Hawk Alpha Bravo Three, my weapons are safe and my tanks are empty. We are inbound and requesting permission to land and refuel. This is an emergency.”

“Black Hawk Alpha Bravo Three, state your emergency, over.”

“Black Hawk Alpha Bravo Three, my weapons are safe and my tanks are empty,” Lucy repeated. “I formally request permission to land and refuel. Medical emergency.”

There was a short pause. Then a different voice said, “This is Director Hank Henshaw. Black Hawk Alpha Bravo Three, you may land at pad four. A team will be sent to assist you.”

Lena’s eyebrows shot up as Lucy prepared to land the helicopter on the designated helipad. “We really do need fuel,” Lucy said through gritted teeth. “I couldn’t get us all the way back on what’s left.”

Lena nodded, steeling herself for what awaited them on the ground. Whatever it was, she wouldn’t leave this place without Kara.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? :)


	25. The Arrow

She was sleeping, her dream a wild jumble of pictures and sound.

Her father, her mother— faceless and far away; the ground slippery under her feet, icy water up to her ankles and rising fast.

Straining against invisible bounds— against strong hands holding her back, holding her down— Kara tried desperately to get to where her mother was calling her name. The ground shook hard, and she felt herself shake with it. Thunder boomed and clapped. Her parents were moving further and further away. In the sky, the moon was red and bleeding, and Kara had never felt this weak or this cold before. No matter how hard she fought, she couldn’t gain an inch.

Everything happened, all at once, and both too fast and in slow-motion, and there was nothing she could do about any of it. Thunder roared overhead and drowned out the shrieking that had picked up as if it were wind. The ground cracked and began to crumble around her.

She wanted to fly, but couldn’t; wanted to run, but her feet wouldn’t go at their normal speed.

Kara jerked her arms forward, a scream rising and dying in her throat when she saw what had been holding her back: It was snakes. Not the big, friendly ones— like the pet one she had rescued before— but tiny mean creatures; thin and slimy, glowing bright yellow-green. They moved almost slug-like as they slithered and hissed, their bodies cold and sticky, squelching and oozing, and making her skin burn. She reached for a snake, tried to shake it off, but it stuck to her like a leech, and Kara screamed when its fangs dug deep into her flesh.

“Kara!”

Her mother had grabbed her by the hand, but when Kara looked up, she had turned into Eliza, had turned into Alex, and she wanted to warn her sister; wanted to drop her hand before the snakes would get her too.

“It’s okay, Kara,” Alex said, pulling her with her. “Mom can cook them.”

_Cook_ —?!

Kara shook her head. _Alex_ , she wanted to say, but no sounds came out. _Alex, be careful. They are dangerous_.

“Mom told you not to fly, Kara,” Alex said, shooting her a disapproving look over her shoulder. “She will be mad.”

Kara was pretty sure she hadn’t flown, but then— how else would she have gotten the slug-snakes? They were all over her body now, ripping her skin open with their tiny teeth. Desperate, Kara grabbed at them with both hands, but, when she did, the snakes were shattered glass, sharp and painful. It sliced her palms. It cut into her arms. It burned in her veins.

Everything went white. She screamed and screamed and screamed.

Then everything went cold.

Her head pounded. Her body felt heavy, bloated with water or too much blood. She heard it rushing, felt her heart pump groggily. She tried moving her head, but the rustling sound, like paper ripping but amplified thousandfold, was almost enough to split her skull open and leave her pulsing brain exposed.

Kara inhaled shakily through her nose. Inhale, hold seven seconds, exhale.

Everything hurt.

She kept her eyes closed, wishing, not for the first time since arriving on Earth, that she had been born a species with handy skin flaps to cover and seal her ears.

There were footsteps, and voices, and breathing, and heartbeats. So many of them. The cacophony of life, of living creatures moving about and doing things. It made Kara’s stomach heave and convulse on nothing.

Tasting bile, Kara ground her teeth and pursed her lips. She carefully lifted one arm, draping it over her eyes. Either her face was very very hot or her arm was very very cold, but the clash in sensations was enough to take her mind off her stomach for a minute.

Someone called her name then, loudly, a note of panic spiking between the two syllables.

“Kara! Where are you? Kara—!”

Even through her painful brain fog, Kara recognized the voice. She wanted to answer, tell Lena where she was and ask if they could please go somewhere quiet for a while, but if she opened her mouth it wouldn’t just be words that came out.

She dropped her arm and squinted up at the bright light.

_Was the sun this high? Was it noon already?_

“Lena,” Kara rasped. Her throat felt raw. She swallowed painfully, tasting copper and wondering if, perhaps, she was sick? But she never got sick? Not on this planet?

Keeping a hand over her eyes, and only briefly peeking through her fingers, she rolled onto her side and grimaced when her feet hit the ground.

“You can’t just—! Hey—!”

“Watch me.”

“Lena!”

A gust of wind, loud footsteps and racing hearts told her that people had arrived, and Kara lowered her hand, blinking rapidly to try and see better.

When her eyes landed on Lena, her body sagged with relief. And she had half decided to give into the siren call of gravity and lie back down, when Alex's sharp voice flashed through her brain like lightning and had her freeze in place and squeeze her eyes shut.

“ _Miss Luthor_ , you cannot—! You don’t have clearance—!”

“Oh, so it’s _Miss Luthor_ now, is it?” Kara winced at the anger in Lena’s voice. In her mind, she went back to the night of the party, and she didn’t have to open her eyes to picture Lena’s face. “Well, alright, _Agent Danvers_ , then why don’t you explain to me— no, explain to _Kara_ — why you would…” Lena’s heart was a war drum, pounding in her chest, loud and ready. “Why you would shoot your own sister?!”

_What_ —?!

Kara must have spoken out loud, for three faces turned to her— two red with anger, one rather pale. Kara didn’t know the woman who had grabbed Lena’s arm as if to hold her back, but even so, she looked oddly familiar, which only made Kara’s headache worse.

She cleared her throat roughly. “What… what’s going on?” Her eyes found Lena’s. “Lena?”

“Oh!” Lena was by her side at once. “Oh, Kara!” All of Lena’s anger seemed to dissipate the second she sat down next to her and gently pulled her into her arms, but Kara felt it come to a boil again as soon as Alex opened her mouth to argue some more about whatever they were arguing about.

“Look,” Alex said, her voice shaking with restrained fury. “Not that it’s any of your business, but _I_ didn’t give the order, I—”

“You followed it,” Lena said.

“Lena—” The third woman spoke for the first time. She sounded a little breathless.

Something was wrong with her ears, the volume rising and ebbing, drowning out whatever came next; and, whimpering, Kara shook her head, feeling Lena tighten her grip and pull her a little closer, shielding her to the best of her ability.

Lena’s blouse was cool and soft against Kara’s cheek, she smelled of that shampoo that Kara liked and faintly sweaty, and Kara closed her eyes, breathing in deep and focusing on Lena’s steady pulse.

“And what’s going on in here?!” A fourth person, a fourth voice, had joined the conversation. Deep and commanding, and more pissed off than Alex and Lena combined. Kara didn’t want to look.

“I told you to keep an eye on our… _visitors_ , Agent Danvers.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

Kara wondered dimly if she was still asleep, still dreaming up this strange reality. Since when did her sister answer to ‘agent’, and why would they go visit her lab in the first place? And wasn’t her boss a woman? Nothing about this made any sense. It had to be part of her dream. Most definitely.

Somewhat happy with that explanation, Kara snuggled in deeper, hiding from the huffs and puffs that came from the only man in the room.

“You can’t be here,” he said finally, and to Kara’s surprise, it was Lena who answered this time.

“I know how to take advantage of a loophole, _Director Henshaw_.” She all but spat the man’s name at his feet. “And this—” she paused. “Most certainly isn’t one. This is illegal.”

“Miss Danvers will remain in our custody.”

“You want to keep her here? On what grounds?” Somewhere to their right, the other woman spoke up.

“She’s an alien. In our airspace. And we are the Department of Extranormal Operations. We monitor and protect Earth from extraterrestrial presence and/or invasion. That means her.”

“She is a legal citizen of National City,” the woman countered. “She may not have been born on American soil, might not have birthright citizenship, but her parents completed the adoption in the United States and Kara Danvers met all the conditions of INA 320 before her 18th birthday, so Certification of Citizenship was obtained, which makes her just as American as you and me, sir.” She drew breath, and continued speaking before the man could get another word in. “Which means you cannot detain her without just cause. Or without letting her call a lawyer first. I bet you didn’t even read her her rights.”

“Did they? Read you your rights?” Lena whispered at her ear, and Kara shook her head, bewildered. The longer this dream went on, the less she understood. What did her being adopted by Eliza and Jeremiah have to do with anything?

“They didn’t,” Lena said into the silence, and Kara heard the smile in her voice. It was her winning at Bullshit voice.

“So, if this went to court we could contest that Miss Danvers wasn’t Mirandized,” the other woman said. “And is currently being held at a government facility against her will. With all the attention the Amnesty Act has been getting, I am sure the Daily Planet—”

“Hold your horses, Miss Lane.”

“Major, sir,” the woman corrected. “Major Lane.”

The man sighed. “You’re all signing NDAs. Agent Danvers.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Make sure they do. And then get them out of my sight.” Lena’s heart shifted down a gear, and Kara felt herself relax with it. Whatever this was, they would go home soon. She’d probably wake up before they even got there. Maybe she could go back to sleep after. And maybe then her headache would go away.

The man left, and Alex followed him. Kara still didn’t understand why Alex was here.

“Kara?” Lena said, tilting her chin up and studying her face. “Are you alright?”

“Mhm-hmm,” Kara mumbled. Even her _teeth_ hurt. She took a breath, took a moment, but her voice still squeaked when she forced it to emerge. “Hmm. No?”

Lena’s face fell, but she caught it quickly, her expression shifting to something more reassuring. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m right here. I got you. I got you.” She brushed Kara’s forehead with her lips, then looked round at the other woman. “We got you.”

The woman— Major Lane? — smiled at her.

Kara managed a weak smile in return. With the yelling part over and silence filling the room, but for two human heartbeats, she had trouble keeping her eyes open. She was hurting all over and she was tired. And Lena was warm and soft and safe. Lena could take care of the dream for a bit, couldn’t she? Lena would know what to do.

When she opened her eyes again, Kara was feeling slightly better, but was still very confused. They were inside her dream still— which, perhaps, meant that it wasn’t a dream after all— and the muscles in her arms and legs still burned when Lena gently urged her to get to her feet.

“She should really stay under the sun lamps a little longer.” Leaning heavily on Lena, Kara looked up to see her sister standing in the doorway. Alex was avoiding her gaze, looking everywhere but at Kara as she spoke. “Her body’s… reaction was a little more… adverse than anticipated,” she added, her voice low, and Kara wanted to hug her and make whatever this was okay, make it go away.

Lena, however, was unmoved.

“We have those at home,” she said, her voice hard. “Come on, Kara.”

Walking between Lena and Major Lane, Kara allowed herself to be led outside the room she had been in and into a dark, cave-like place that looked like a command center on a TV show. Almost like the ones they had on the shows about space travel. Those with rocks made from paper maché and Styrofoam.

People in uniforms bustled about, some of them shooting them dirty looks as they passed, but no one tried to stop them, and Kara’s heart unclenched. That was until she spotted something large, streamlined, and silver, tucked away in a corner.

“That’s… that’s my,” she spluttered, causing the two others to stop and look in the same direction she was. “That’s my… I came here in…”

“Wow,” Major Lane said. “Not bad. Good shape for flying. Not sure about the… decorative elements.”

“They’re all like that.”

Lena let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “You two can talk shop once we’re out of here and safely on the way back to the city, okay?”

She adjusted Kara’s arm around her shoulders and renewed her grip around her waist, and Kara kind of wanted to take a closer look, ask someone about how her pod had ended up in this place of all places, but the uptick in Lena’s pulse told her now was not the time. She would add it to the backlog of unanswered questions in her mind.

When they left the cave and stepped out into a vast ocean of sand, the air was dead with heat. The tarmac shimmered with it, the sun’s rays the intense, brilliant yellow of midday instead of a morning’s pallid pastel, and Kara wondered how much time had passed since she had been home. Last she remembered, she and Lena had been at Lena’s. Then she had woken up here— whatever this place was, and however she had gotten here. There were a lot of blanks. 

The sun on her skin felt good, but she was still tired, and they didn’t stop for a sunbath or for Lena or Major Lane to wipe the sweat from their faces.

Kara wasn’t sure about flying on the helicopter. Now that she had done it a bunch of times, she much preferred flying by herself. However, even if she had felt up to it, she was sure Lena would never have let her. So she sat down on a seat beside Lena, scooting as close as possible, and put on the headset she was handed.

The machine roared to life and they left the ground behind.

The swooping sensation in Kara’s stomach had very little to do with the altitude they were gaining, and gaining fast. The longer she was awake, the more alert and like herself she felt, the wilder her questions danced around in her head and belly like a cluster of agitated butterflies, stirring her up and leaving her on pins and needles.

Rubbing her face, Kara glanced back down at the sparkling sand one last time, then turned to Lena.

“How… how did you find me?” she asked, listening to the static filling her ears through the headphones as Lena broke eye contact to look down at their feet.

“Well, actually,” she said, her hands squeezing Kara’s. “Don’t be mad. I meant to tell you sooner.”

“Tell me what, Lena?”

“There’s a tiny… tracker in your boots,” Lena admitted, glancing up at her out of guilty puppy eyes.

Kara wasn’t mad. Why would she be? Lena worried so much when she put on the cape, and if some GPS tracker helped alleviate some of that worry, Kara absolutely didn’t mind. Also, that tracker had gotten her out of whatever tight spot she had been in, so Lena had been right to worry in the first place. Perhaps Kara had bitten off more than she could chew? Perhaps she wasn’t ready after all?

“That’s… a good idea,” she said, her hands twitching in Lena’s. Now that she thought about it, it should have been the other way around, shouldn’t it? She should have been the one to come to the rescue. Feeling shame bloom in her cheeks, Kara wanted to pull away, but she also didn’t want Lena to get the wrong message. She loved Lena. And she _was_ grateful. She just didn’t understand. “I don’t even know what happened.”

“I… what do you remember?”

“Dinner,” Kara said, the vivid memory of lasagna coming to the forefront of her mind. “The movie. Well, some of it. We… didn’t really watch it, did we?”

Before Lena could say anything, there came a bark of laughter over the headphones, and Major Lane asked, “Do you guys maybe… I don’t know, need your own channel or something?”, which made Kara’s cheeks burn even fiercer. She had forgotten all about the woman flying the helicopter.

“Oh, butt out, Lucy!” Lena complained. “Just… don’t listen,” she added quietly, which brought on another cackling laugh.

“Wait.” Kara’s hand flew up to her headphones, pressing them a little harder against her ears. “Lucy? Lucy Lane?” Her brain needed a few seconds to process that information. No wonder she had seemed strangely familiar. “Oh my Gods, you’re… you’re Lois’ little sister!”

Lucy groaned. “Could you not remind me?”

“Sorry.”

Lucy sighed, then paused, and Kara wondered if she had upset her somehow, mentioning Lois. As far as she knew, the Lane sisters were estranged, which was why the two of them hadn’t met before.

Just when the silence stretched too long for comfort and Kara geared up to apologize properly, Lucy spoke again.

“Guess that means… we’re family?” she said, a hint of surprise or maybe mild disbelief in her question.

Kara smiled. “Yeah. I guess we are!” She beamed at Lena, who was grinning but hiding most of her amusement behind a polite hand. Her eyes gave her away anyway.

Remembering something else, Kara fiddled with the microphone piece. “Oh! And when the baby comes, I bet Lois and Clark—” she blurted, catching herself too late, only then remembering that Eliza had sort of sworn her to secrecy. But that rule didn’t apply to family, did it? And besides, Lucy probably already knew.

If the swaying helicopter was any indication, she did not.

“Well, fuck me,” she said, regaining control over her aircraft and making it level out. “Jeez. What do you know. Okay. Great. Cool, cool.” She blew out a breath. “I would ask if this… trip could get any weirder, but honestly? I’m a little afraid of the answer. So I won’t.”

“Uh-huh,” Kara agreed, her attention back on Lena, who sat with her back pressed into her seat, her fingers digging into her thighs, and her face paler than fresh milk.

Kara nudged her gently, and Lena gulped. “Luce, can you not?” she rasped and let out a dry laugh, but Kara knew that behind her bravado and her joking tone, Lena’s heart was running for its life. She also knew why. And her arms wrapped around Lena as best as their traveling situation would allow.

“Sorry,” Lucy said. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

Lucy took great care to keep the helicopter steady after that and the rest of their flight went smoothly. They didn’t talk much, not about what had happened anyway, but Kara hoped Lena would fill her in once they were alone.

However, at the same time, part of her wondered if not knowing was better. The uneasy feeling in her gut seemed to suggest as much. Perhaps it would be best if she didn’t have all the details? But then, if she didn’t _know_ , how could she make sure it didn’t happen again?

Lucy took them to L-Corp and took off for Metropolis after a bathroom break, quick goodbyes, and with one extra-large coffee clutched in one hand. After Kara had changed into the spare shirt and pants combo from Lena’s office, and they had stuffed her dirty suit and tattered cape into Lena’s bag, Lena’s driver took them to Lena’s.

They arrived a few minutes before their late lunch— or early dinner— did, and by the time Lena’s apartment was filled with the smell of tomatoes, oregano, and melted cheese, and Lena joined her on the sofa after adjusting the lights (so they would spotlight Kara rather than Albert), Kara had already torn through one pizza and a half, and had to remind herself to pace herself and leave some food for Lena.

With her headache almost gone and her stomach back to normal, she found she was positively starving. And parched too. Just like the sun-parched desert. The desert that now, sitting in Lena’s apartment, felt like something from a strange fever dream.

Taking a large bite of pizza, Kara focused on chewing exactly 42 times before she swallowed. She had changed back into her own clothes, so it didn’t matter that she wiped her fingers on her pants.

“Lena?” she asked, watching her girlfriend pause mid-bite and lower her own slice of pizza. “What… happened?”

Lena put her pizza down and turned her whole body towards her, and both their hearts began to beat a little louder, thudding slightly out of sync in Kara’s ears. “The truth?”

“Yes, please.”

Lena’s eyes roamed her face for a moment longer, then earnest green met blue, and she took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said. “You said you remember dinner? And the movie?”

Kara nodded, adding, “And kissing,” under her breath, which made Lena blush— despite her raised eyebrow.

“Yes. So… we were… and then there was a radio transmission about a fire in the Financial District.” She waited to see if Kara recalled that too, but she did not. A fire? “You… you went to help, but… it doesn’t look like you ever actually got there,” Lena said carefully, reaching out and resting a hand on Kara’s knee.

“The… the DEO seems to have intercepted you somewhere between here and downtown.”

“The DEO?”

“That compound in the desert. The ‘ _Department of Extranormal Operations_ ’—” Lena made air quotes around the name, her nose scrunching up in disgust— “Whoever… _the fuck_ … they think they are.”

Kara mulled that over for a moment. “Why?” she asked, finally. “I just… we were _helping_?”

“Apparently, their… well, they want to keep people in the dark about alien life on Earth,” Lena said. “Doesn’t make a lick of sense with what’s going on in Metropolis, if you ask me. People _know_. And yes, a lot of them are scared, but—”

“People know about my cousin; they don't fear him.”

“Plenty of people do,” Lena mumbled. When she took a breath, her chest heaved. “It’s just not popular to admit it.”

Kara didn’t understand. All Clark had ever done; all _she_ had done was help people. She had rescued people and their pets; kittens and dogs and… _snakes_. And—

“Something… something hit me,” she said slowly, a fuzzy picture of a dark alley rising behind her eyes. “I… I fell. I—”

_Sharp pain in her body, in her arms and legs. The wind rushing past her ears. The ground coming closer. Her eyes snapping shut anticipating impact. Then nothing._

Lena was watching her out of glistening eyes. When she spoke, her voice was heavy with emotion. Outrage, terror, compassion. “They… they _shot_ you, Kara,” she explained, trying to keep her voice from shaking, but only partially succeeding. “K-Kryptonite arrows.”

Kara felt her jaw go slack. She stared at Lena, then looked down at her own body, stupidly padding herself down with her hands, as if to check for injuries. Fire couldn’t touch her, bullets couldn’t break her skin, but Kryptonite?! — Kryptonite was the one thing, the only thing on Earth that would kill her, if she wasn’t careful.

“How… how did they—?” she spluttered, not finishing her thought or her question, because a million others were already vying for her attention. “And _Alex_. Why was Alex—”

Lena pursed her lips, shook her head. “Your… your sister works for them, Kara,” she said carefully. “And… and I think my brother might have been where… how they got their hands on…” She worried her bottom lip, glancing down and then up to keep from crying. “I’m… I’m so sorry, Kara.”

It had to be a mistake. Alex… Alex would _never_. She would know if…. No, Alex worked at a lab. Just a lab. Blood panels and cotton swabs. Kara shook her head like a wet dog in the rain, but she couldn’t stop the truth behind Lena’s words from seeping through her skin and settling within her. Lena wouldn’t lie. And she had seen Alex there, at the place. Had seen her with her own two eyes.

The truth hurt more than Kryptonite ever could, and Kara gasped when it hit her full force. Before her tears could start to fall, Lena had opened her arms for her— a little shyly at first, but the invitation stood— and Kara dove for the much needed hug at once and without hesitation.

“It’s okay. You’re going to be okay,” Lena murmured.

Lena’s hugs weren’t like Alex’s or Eliza’s. She kept perfectly still, like a seashell protecting a pearl. Her arms and hands didn’t move. Only her left thumb was rubbing tiny, tiny circles on Kara’s back. 

“I never felt pain like that before,” Kara mumbled against Lena’s neck. “Uh, I've never felt _pain_ , Lena. Those… those arrows? I—” She broke off, because her voice would no longer support the words’ weight. She wasn’t sobbing, even when her chest was tight with hurt, but her cheeks were wet all the same. 

“You're not indestructible.” Kara felt Lena draw a shaky breath. “Kara?”

“Mhm-hmm?”

“Please, promise me you’re not going to…fly anymore? Not until it’s safe?”

Shifting, Kara nuzzled Lena’s collarbone. She could hear the panicked fluttering, the fearful staccato drumming away behind her rib-cage. And Lena was right, of course she was, but she couldn’t go back, could she? Back to hiding, back to pretending. Not now, when she had felt flight to her very core; when she had soared through the cloudless, bright blue sky; when she had sailed on the wind, her cape flapping behind her. She just couldn’t.

“I… I need to think about it?”

Lena hummed low in response, her fingers trailing down Kara’s spine slowly.

“I—” She swallowed. “I can’t lose you again, okay?”

“You won’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Thoughts? 😊


	26. The Apology

Kara told her she was fine, even when Lena could see clearly that she was not. Lena suggested spending the night at Kara’s, assuming that Kara would feel better sleeping in her own bed, but Kara didn’t want to do that either. She wanted to stay, and so they did.

Lena made tea, put on a light-hearted kids’ movie on Netflix, got out the fuzzy blankets that Kara kept bringing over. She snuggled up to Kara on the couch, and they mostly sat in silence until the movie was over and Lena decided it was time to get ready for bed before they would fall asleep right then and there.

Contrary to her expectations, Kara was out like a light the moment her head hit the pillow. Lena, on the other hand, her arms wrapped securely around Kara, had no such luck. She was dead tired, yes, but she was too tired to actually sleep. It happened. She was done beating herself up for it when it did. If she didn’t sleep, she didn’t sleep. If she didn’t sleep, she would just rest with her eyes closed, listening to Kara’s deep breathing.

At least, with Kara in her bed, she wasn’t cold. Kara was a space heater in super-human form, and Lena was glad she had chosen to go to bed in nothing but one of Kara’s T-shirts and underwear, not one of her long-sleeved PJs.

That was, at least, until she heard the loud thump coming from outside the apartment. It came from the balcony, something hitting the concrete with determined force.

Not quite sure what she was doing or why, Lena got out of bed, careful not to disturb Kara, and padded out into the living area. She slowly crept forward in the dark, feeling her hands sweat as she reached for the poker next to the fireplace. Her fire was electric, much less of a hazard and hassle, and the poker was purely there for decorative purposes, but it had a pointy end and she could use it as a weapon, if she had to. Curling her fingers around the cool iron and holding her weapon of choice like a foil, she took a deep breath.

“Aim for the heart,” she muttered to herself, ignoring the pounding in her chest as she stared at the silhouette on the other side of the doors.

Whoever or whatever it was, wasn’t moving. They just stood there as if sculpted from marble.

“Who are you and what do you want?” Lena called out, sounding much braver than she felt. “I can have security up here in under two seconds and I’m armed. Declare yourself!”

The figure moved then, took a step forward into the puddle of moonlight, and Lena’s heart almost stopped.

“Miss Luthor,” the sonorous voice of _Superman_ said, the sound hitting her squarely in the chest. “I’m here to see… my cousin. May I come in?”

Lena just gaped at him; at the man in the red boots and blue tights, his cape gently swaying in the breeze behind him. She had seen him before, of course, in newspapers and on television. And in her brother’s lab, the superhero’s image blown up unnaturally, making him both grotesque and larger than life. Seeing him standing here, in the middle of the night, on her balcony, was a different matter entirely.

“I— Uh…” Lena felt the poker slip and renewed her grip, not sure how to handle the situation. She knew better than to heed her brother’s crazy warnings, but part of her still felt threatened. She was a Luthor and this was Superman. How else was she supposed to feel about it?

“I know this is not ideal. I apologize for the late hour and unwelcome intrusion, but I really need to speak to Kara. Please.”

His voice was firm, but he didn’t put his words into any kind of action, didn’t move closer or put his hand on the door handle. He was waiting, waiting for her to invite him in, Lena realized slowly, feeling her shoulders relax a little. Of course. He was one of the good guys. He wouldn’t break into her home, wouldn’t use force to get what he wanted. He had made a polite request and was waiting for her answer.

Lena cleared her throat roughly. “I— I will go… ask her,” she said, then pointed the poker at him. “You… you wait there.”

He raised his hands in front of his body, a gesture of surrender and acceptance, and nodded.

Swallowing her heart back down, Lena nodded too. Then, realizing she was only wearing a thin cotton T-shirt and a pair of panties, felt herself blush fiercely. She stepped back, feeling less exposed cloaked by the darkness in the room— even when the rational part of her brain knew that it didn’t change anything. He could see through walls if he wanted. A little darkness and some flimsy fabric did exactly nothing.

Dropping the poker onto the couch, she turned on her heel and hurried out of sight; back to the bedroom to wake Kara and, at least, put on a pair of pants.

“Kara,” she whispered, gently shaking Kara’s shoulder to get her to stir. “Kara, wake up.”

Kara grunted, mumbling groggily into her pillow, and Lena felt a pang of guilt. She should really let her sleep. But she was also slightly terrified to go back out there and deal with her… family on her own, so she tried again. “Kara, I know. I’m sorry. Please, wake up. Your… your cousin is here?”

Kara looked up at her out of gritty eyes. “W-What?”

“Your cousin is here. He wants to talk to you.”

“Tough luck,” Kara grumbled, and Lena would have laughed at how adorable sleepy Kara was, but the thought of telling Superman ‘no.’ had lodged in her throat and she couldn’t.

“Kara, please,” she said, her hand still on Kara’s shoulder. “I don’t think he’ll just… leave?”

Kara groaned. Her eyes opened again and she rolled onto her back, stretching her arms over her head with a wide yawn. “No. No he won’t.” She threw the covers back and swung her legs out of bed, her bare feet hitting the floor with a disgruntled little thud. “Idiot.”

Lena almost laughed then.

“Okay then. Come on.”

Before she could protest, Kara had taken her by the hand and led her out of the bedroom again. She didn’t care that her sleep shirt was too short, riding up her butt with every step, or that her hair stuck up at the back of her head. She didn’t care that they were barely dressed at all, certainly not dressed _enough_ for company.

Feeling her face burn, Lena stumbled after her, then bit her lip when Kara let go of her hand and slid open the balcony doors with a little more force than necessary, planting her hands on her hips.

“Oh, you better—!”

Before she could finish her sentence, Superman had wrapped his arms around her, engulfing her in a bear-hug that left Kara balancing on her toes, her arms hanging loosely at her sides. He didn’t speak, just squeezed her tight, and Lena couldn’t help but smile at the scene. He might be an ‘idiot’, and Kara might be mad at him, but he was still family. He loved her. That much was obvious.

A strange sinking feeling in her belly, Lena watched them for a moment longer, then stepped back, intent on giving them some privacy and on— finally! — getting her hands on those damn pants, but when she did, Kara broke the embrace, her arm shooting out to hold her back. Lena let her intertwine their fingers, but she couldn’t look at the man standing mere inches away from them, so she looked at her feet.

“What are you doing here, Kal-El?” Kara asked. Her voice had lost some of its acidic bite, but was still a far cry from the warm and cordial melody that Lena’s ears were used to.

“I needed to… I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“I’m fine.”

“I… I heard about the… Kryptonite.”

Lena’s head snapped up at the word, but Superman wasn’t looking at her. He only had eyes for Kara. Wide, concerned eyes.

Kara licked her lips, her chin jutting out a little. “What about it?”

Superman sighed. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said, sounding a little defeated. “Look, I get that you and I might never see eye to eye on… certain things, but that doesn’t mean—”

“Certain things? Oh, you mean my _girlfriend_?”

Lena squeezed her eyes shut, uncomfortable being the center of attention with nowhere to hide and no tailored armor to protect her. Feeling two pairs of intense eyes on her, she suddenly felt a deep longing for her Louboutins.

“No,” Superman said. “Not her. In fact, it seems like I owe Miss Luthor here an apology.”

What—? Lena opened her eyes and lifted them to Superman’s. His were much darker than Kara’s, brown, almost black, but the same shape. He also had the same crinkle above his nose, which, somehow, made him a little less intimidating.

“Yeah, you do,” Kara concurred, looking at her cousin expectantly.

“I… I was wrong about you, Miss Luthor,” Superman said, now addressing her directly, and Lena felt the heat in her cheeks intensify tenfold. “You… you saved Kara’s life. You got her out of that… that— you _saved_ her, and I will forever be grateful to you for that. I’m in your debt, Miss Luthor.”

“I—” Lena had been about to downplay her role in the day’s events. She was going to tell him how she hadn’t done much, really; how it had been his sister-in-law’s helicopter that did most of the heavy lifting and, by extension, Lucy, but then thought better of it. She had done what she could, had done the right thing, and there was nothing wrong with letting that stand, undisputed. “I would do it again in a heartbeat, Mr. Kent.”

Superman, Clark Kent, blinked at her, his eyes briefly flickering to Kara’s face, before he let out a breath. The smile on his lips was tight, but it was there. “And I’m glad to hear it, Miss Luthor.”

He held out a hand, and, after a split-second’s hesitation, Lena took it. His grip was firm, but warm, and Lena managed a little smile of her own as they shook.

Beside her, Kara yawned. “And this couldn’t have waited until breakfast?” she asked, rolling her eyes, but her tone was reconciliatory. “Why?”

Her cousin gave her a look. “Because, one, I was worried about you. And two, it’s hard to get away...” He trailed off, not giving any further explanation. “Which reminds me, there is something else we need to talk about, Kara. Something you should know.”

Before Kara could respond, Lena said, “Perhaps, you’d like to do all that inside? I could make tea?” — surprising even herself. She stepped aside, watching as a second Kryptonian inclined his head and entered her home.

“Thank you. Tea would be most wonderful.”

As Kara and Superman settled on her couch, Lena scurried off to busy herself behind her kitchen island. She still wanted those pants, but, for the moment, the overpowering need to be a good hostess had taken over. She put the kettle on, got three of her favorite mugs from the cupboard, and squatted down to rummage for the ridiculously expensive fine china teapot that Mother had given her some years previous.

When she had found it, and prepared some of her very best tea, leaving it to draw on the counter for a few minutes, she finally allowed herself to slink into the bedroom and put on a pair of comfortable yoga pants, breathing a long sigh of relief.

When she walked back out, a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie for Kara draped over her arm, Kara and Superman were in deep conversation.

“No one knows how your pod got loose, but, when it did, you pulled Fort Rozz with you. When it crashed on Earth, the convicts, they all escaped. We just didn’t know until—”

“I— I brought them here?” Kara sounded alarmed, and Lena wanted to go to her at once, but didn’t want to encroach on anything either, so she just stood, unsure, in the middle of the room for a moment. “What’s happening in Metropolis? It’s happening because of me? It’s… it’s my fault?”

“No,” Superman and Lena said together, and he glanced over his shoulder at her, giving her a small smile. Lena ducked her head and made to assemble the teapot and cups on a tray.

“It’s not your fault,” he said, his attention back on Kara. “But these aliens, some of them are really powerful. For over a decade they’ve stayed hidden, but over the past few months many have been emerging, wreaking havoc, terrorizing the human population. It’s random and disjointed, or it seemed that way at first, but now it looks like they’re planning something. Something big. And—”

“I can help you! I can help you stop them!” Kara exclaimed, and Lena nearly dropped the tray before it had reached the coffee table. She set it down carefully, then sat down on Kara’s other side, finding her own expression mirrored on Superman’s face.

Then, however, his expression changed; concern hardening and turning into something else.

“No, Kara. You couldn’t even stop the DEO from capturing you. It’s not what—”

“I’m still learning! I could—”

“My job is to keep the people of Earth safe. To keep _you_ safe, which is why…” He sighed. “Kara, you really shouldn’t be out there flying. Not until this threat is contained. You’re—”

“What?!”

She silently agreed with him. Lena almost felt ashamed to admit it— even to herself— and she didn’t say anything— not out loud, anyway, not when Kara had jumped to her feet and rounded on her cousin like she had— but she did agree. All she wanted was for Kara to be safe and, if there was a threat, a threat big enough for Superman to come warn Kara in person in the dead of night, then Lena could do nothing, but agree with him.

She exhaled and, folding them neatly on her lap, put the clothes she had brought down next to her.

“They might… no, they _will_ target you, Kara.”

Kara huffed. “Oh, sure. The big bad aliens are out there, so let’s just make sure little Kara Danvers…” she harrumphed, indignant.

Lena leaned forward, lifting herself off the couch slightly, and put her hand on the small of Kara’s back, rubbing reassuringly. She felt Kara inhale, then heard her exhale through her nose, and, after another couple seconds, Kara threw her hands up and plopped back down onto the couch.

Her arms and legs were crossed, and she was looking daggers at Superman, but she didn’t say anything else.

Superman rubbed his forehead. “I’m not telling you what to do, Kara. Just… what I think you should... what I hope you will. I— I can’t protect you from this, not all the way from Metropolis, and I— I’m _worried_ , okay?”

“He wants to keep you safe,” Lena interjected, a hand on Kara’s thigh. “We both do.”

Kara blew out a breath, deflating a little. When she spoke again, her voice was small, but her tone endearingly petulant, and Lena had to bite down on her bottom lip to keep the smile from spreading.

“I want to help! It’s not fair!”

“With the DEO breathing down your neck, and rampant alien convicts out for blood…”

Lena saw Kara’s face fall, and found herself speaking before she had thought things through.

“What if we came to Metropolis?” she asked. “Kara could help you, you could keep an eye on her, and—”

“Lena, you... _don’t like_ Metropolis,” Kara protested. She wasn’t wrong. Dislike was putting it mildly. She _hated_ Metropolis.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Superman said slowly, and Lena wanted to kick him in the shins. He had no idea what even offering to go cost her, what it would mean if she returned to Metropolis. “It’s too dangerous. I—” At a mutinous look from Kara, he sighed. “Just… lay low for a little bit longer, okay? We’ll… we’ll figure it out?”

“How long?”

“Give me… a week? I need to think this over. Maybe talk to a few people.” He paused. “If you were to come to Metropolis— and I am not saying that you _are_ , Kara — then you’d need a cover: a place to stay, a job…”

“The living situation wouldn’t be a problem,” Lena said quickly. Perhaps, with Kara by her side, returning to Metropolis wouldn’t be so bad. They could live together, share a home, maybe build a life for themselves. A life that Mother couldn’t touch.

Kara turned to her, her eyes wide, then a slow smile spread across her face like the sunrise. Lena smiled back.

“I’ll… consider it.” Superman got to his feet, and they both looked up at him, a little taken aback. “Kara, please be careful. Stay safe.” He stooped to hug Kara with one arm. “Miss Luthor, … see that she does?”

Lena nodded, and before anyone could say anything else, Superman had exited her home and pushed off from her balcony, his cup of tea tepid and sitting untouched on the table.

“So, that was…” Lena said slowly, after a minute. She picked up her own cup and took a sip. She meant to say ‘something’, but Kara beat her to it.

“My idiot cousin, acting all high and mighty as per usual, yeah,” she said, rolling her neck and stretching. “I don’t know where he gets it from, honestly. Uncle Jor-El and aunt Lara weren’t like this, and neither are the Kents. It’s all him, Lena, and it’s driving me crazy.”

She reached for her tea and slumped back into the cushions with a dramatic little sigh, then knocked the herbal blend back in one go, like it was a much stronger drink; a drink served on ice, with a little piece of lemon or lime, perhaps. A little pink paper umbrella.

Lena laughed.

Kara smacked her lips, then turned to her. “You’d really come to Metropolis with me?” She set the cup down and took Lena’s hands in hers. “You know you don’t have to, if… if…”

She hadn’t told Kara everything. Not yet, not in excruciating detail. But Kara knew what she needed to, to understand that returning to Metropolis wasn’t high on Lena’s bucket list. In fact, it hadn’t even made the list before this evening. But Lena would be lying if the idea of living her best life with Kara by her side right under Mother’s disapproving nose wasn’t tempting. Also, she’d sleep better at night knowing that Superman would look out for Kara when and where she could not. She was a fencer, not a field agent.

“Yes,” Lena said, squeezing Kara’s hands. “I’d go anywhere with you.”

Kara opened her mouth, perhaps to thank her or to argue the point, but Lena never found out which. Instead she pressed her lips to Kara’s, kissing her deeply and taking both their breaths away.

They stayed on the couch— tangled up limbs, wandering hands, and exploring tongues, and Lena just hoped the second pair of super-ears was far enough away by the time Kara’s hand slipped under her panties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did everyone think? 😊


	27. The Test

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have another chapter, everyone. I'm on a roll. 😎
> 
> **Content warning** : violence/sexual violence. Skip 2nd scene, if needed.

On Monday Kara woke up early. She wanted to sleep the morning away, but couldn’t. Outside, the fog was heavy over the rooftops and the quiet streets, and she would make herself a cup of tea and go to the living room to read and wait until the sun broke through. Maybe it was Lena’s influence, but she really enjoyed a cup of tea in the mornings now. And another before bed. It bracketed her day nicely, and she had become fond of the ritual.

She sat and sipped and read, trying to hang onto the peace from her dreams, but as petrol blue inched towards dirty orange, her mind slipped into that restless state it had been in ever since the idea of moving to Metropolis had taken hold in her brain.

It wasn’t a bad idea, it made sense in more ways than one, and it was a good compromise between what everyone needed and wanted. Kara could see that. Eliza would be proud of her for seeing it. And yet, part of her, part of her _heart_ , wasn’t in it.

Maybe it was Alex. They hadn’t spoken since that awful crazy day in the desert. And even then, they hadn’t really talked to each other. Kara worried about Alex, alone in that place. Then she got even madder at her sister for making her worry about her in the first place. What was Alex doing, being involved with those people? Those anti-alien agents who worked for Rao knew what or who? Those people who shot innocent aliens out of the sky without so much as a warning.

Kara wanted to reach out, but she didn’t know what to say. And, either way, the idea to relocate to Metropolis was still only that, an idea. Nothing was set in stone or set in motion. Not yet. Kal-El hadn’t been in touch, and neither she nor Lena had told anyone about what might or might not happen in their very near future. There was a chance they would go, and an equally big one that they would not.

For now, they were waiting. And Kara’s middle name truly wasn’t ‘Patience’. Waiting drove her up the walls.

After her morning tea, she lit her candle and spent the next hour and a half on her knees, whispering prayer after prayer. Her prayer candle burned down slowly, its flickering flame making tiny shadows dance on her walls as she communed with Rao, asking the All-Powerful for a sign, pleading for a nudge in the right direction.

She felt bad about even considering leaving when things were this up in the air. She felt bad about leaving Alex, and her friends, and Miss Grant, and CatCo. Even _thinking_ about leaving CatCo gave her the heebie-jeebies. She couldn’t picture herself working anywhere else, let alone at a place like the Planet. Kal-El had said she would need a good cover if she came to Metropolis, so she assumed that the Planet was what he had in mind, but truly, she didn’t know. He might stick her somewhere else, just to avoid suspicion. She wouldn’t put it past him to tank her career in favor of his secret identity.

Or, perhaps, she was meant to apply for suitable jobs by herself? Kara had looked at the respective websites for 0.3 seconds each, then closed them again, because she couldn’t stand the horrible guilty feeling that rose within her whenever she even _considered_ considering a new path. She couldn’t leave CatCo. She couldn’t leave Cat. She owed so much to Cat Grant. She owed her everything.

Praying didn’t help, Rao didn’t give her the answers she wanted, and Kara felt absolutely miserable the whole subway ride to work, and was only just holding back tears when she stepped out into the familiar bullpen.

Moving to Metropolis to help kick some alien-ass had been a fine idea, but now that the concept might become her new reality, Kara didn’t feel ready. Just the thought of it felt like someone had punched her in the gut and then pulled the rug right out from under her, leaving her stumbling about, desperate to find her footing again.

“Good morning, buttercup!” Nia beamed at her, already waiting at her desk with hot coffee and sweet pastries like she did every Monday morning, and Kara swallowed another lump. “Good weekend?”

“Yeah,” she said, slumping into her chair, and tried to smile, but that probably made it worse.

Nia’s brow furrowed. “Oh-kay.” She hesitated. “Trouble in paradise?”

It took Kara a moment to grasp what she meant, but when she did, she shook her head vigorously. “No, no. It’s fine, we’re fine. We’re… kind of… thinking about moving in together,” she admitted. She had to say something, and she wouldn’t mention Metropolis, so—

Nia’s loud squeal went through her thoughts like a warm spoon through chocolate ice cream. “Oh my God! Congrats! That’s amazing! You… you do have to bring her to the Pride Fundraiser! Or better yet, we should all go out some time. Karaoke night?”

Kara tried to picture Lena on stage, next to a karaoke machine, and couldn’t help but smile through her tears. Tears that she hastily wiped from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

“Oh, sugar, what’s wrong?” Nia looked properly concerned now. “Whatever it is, you know you can talk to me, right? If you want to talk, that is,” she added quickly. “We don’t have to do that. We can also just…” She nudged the plate of muffins closer to Kara. “But I’m here, if you need me, okay?”

Kara nodded, feeling like the worst friend on the planet. No, in the whole galaxy.

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” she said, grabbing herself by the mental collar and trying to snap out of it. She couldn’t tell Nia. Telling her any of it would have meant revealing it all, and, while she trusted Nia enough to do that, she knew she wasn’t supposed to. The less people knew, the better. If he had taught her anything, Kal-El had taught her that. Knowing put a target on their backs, and Nia’s back was already scarred. She didn’t need yet another thing to carry. “Thank you. I just… need a minute. Why… why don’t you tell me about your weekend?”

Nia searched her eyes for a moment longer, waited another beat, but then launched into a retelling of her very busy, very colorful weekend, spent partying with her roommate Yvette, which had Kara in breathless stitches in no time.

They laughed and ate, and Kara almost forgot about her troubles for the time it took to finish Nia’s story and their breakfast. Then Cat’s elevator dinged, and the sound alone dropped a bag of stones into her stomach.

“Kara. A word.”

Nia’s raised eyebrows followed her as Kara followed Miss Grant into her office, the stones rumbling and tumbling inside her like she was the big bad wolf and Miss Grant dead-set on cutting her open. She wasn’t a wolf. She wasn’t even a dog. She was the guilty puppy that had peed on the carpet.

“Take a seat,” Cat said, motioning her into a chair. “Can you explain to me why I have Perry White trying to get a hold of me first thing Monday morning and asking for a reference for you?”

Kara gaped at her. Oh, she would _kill_ Kal-El. For real this time.

“What is this about, Kara? And why do I have to hear about it from Perry?”

Kara opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

“Go on,” Cat prompted. “I’m not going to bite your head off… yet.”

Her mouth was dry, her face hot, and her heart was doing the conga in her chest, but without all the glitter or the big hair. It was more of a very fast death march.

“M-Miss Grant, I—” Cat’s fingernails drumming out an impatient rhythm on her desk— a rhythm that horribly clashed with her own heartbeat in her ears— was awfully distracting. “I’m sorry. I meant to— I didn’t realize he would call you and—”

“Oh, I don't ever talk to Perry White on the phone,” Cat interjected. “It’s called self-care. He sent me an e-mail. No, actually, he sent five. Before 7 am. So, explain?”

“I… I was looking into… possible ways to, err, maybe, expand my horizons, and— um, nothing’s decided yet or anything, so I didn’t— you know. I _would_ have…”

“‘Expand your horizons’?” Cat’s voice made air quotes around the expression. “With… Perry White?” Her eyebrows had reached cruising altitude and wouldn’t come back down. “Odd choice. But, alright. Go on.”

Kara sighed. She wouldn’t get out of this one. Not in a million years. “I… I was thinking about— possibly! — relocating to Metropolis,” she said, feeling the tips of her ears burning just as badly as her face already was. They would kill her. She didn’t even have to specify who. They would just kill her. All of them. One after the other. “And, uh—”

“I understand,” Cat said, in a tone that suggested otherwise. “We all do stupid things for love when we’re young.” She sighed. “Well, I guess I’m partially to blame for this one, so I won’t yell. It’s your lucky day, _Miss Danvers_.”

“No!” Kara said, before she had thought about it. “It’s not that. It’s, um, well…”

Cat leaned forward on her desk. Her amused expression was worse than if she had yelled at her. “Oh, it isn’t? Then, pray tell, why you would even so much as consider leaving CatCo for… for a glorified tabloid such as the Daily Planet. Because, if it isn’t ‘love’ then you better have a damn good explanation.”

True to her word, Cat still wasn’t yelling. She didn’t have to. Kara knew her tells; knew from years of trial and error, and Cat Grant was definitely mad now.

“It’s… very complicated,” she mumbled, knowing full-well that both what she was (not) saying and the manner in which she said it, would enrage her boss further. She couldn’t help it. At least she had the sense to keep her head up and her eyes trained on a spot right behind Cat’s left ear. If she had curled up in her chair, like she wanted to, and stared at her shoes, Cat would have lost it for good.

“Okay,” Cat said, inhaling deeply. She straightened and put her hands on her hips. It would have been worse if she had stood up. Perhaps Kara was going to live after all. “Looks like one of us will have to pull up her big girl pants and come out and say it, and, if we’re waiting for you to do it, we’ll be old and forgetful by the time you get there. Or, at least, I will— I am not sure how fast aliens age. Do you use anti-aging creams?”

Kara could do nothing but stare, open-mouthed.

“Oh, Kara, don’t look at me like that.” Cat smiled. “I’m neither blind nor stupid, and you, I’m afraid to tell you, aren’t very good at hiding your _supernatural_ secret.”

“I, uh—”

“Your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn’t? The superhuman appetite? The never ending supply of, very much appreciated, steaming hot coffee?” Cat’s smile grew into a knowing smirk. “I knew you were a space cadet the moment you walked through my doors, Kara. It just took me a while to figure out what kind.” Cat pointed a finger at her own chest; to where her family’s crest would have been if their places were reversed and Kara were wearing her suit. “You’re learning fast, aren’t you?”

Kara couldn’t speak. She forgot to breathe. She didn’t blink.

“Though, how you manage to still be late with both extranormal speed and the ability to fly right at your fingertips is beyond me.” Cat shook her head. “I’d never fly on an airplane again if I had the choice. Sadly, I don't.”

“You… _know_?” Kara finally croaked, her voice sounding foreign to her own ears.

“Yes, I know. Haven’t you been listening to what I’m trying to tell you? Come on now, you’re smarter than this, _Supergirl_.”

There. There it was. The name went through Kara like an electric shock.

Cat shook her head at her again. “A new superhero in blue, with a red cape, appearing the moment you figure out… who you are? The sudden frequent disappearances to the roof? Frankly, I’m surprised no one else seems to have put two and two together yet.” Cat laughed. “Just… never get bangs.”

“Okay?” Kara said, dimly wondering what her hairstyle had to do with anything.

“So, with that awkward clunky bit of business out of the way, why is Perry White under the impression you want to work for him, starting as soon as possible?” Cat leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. “Super or not, you will have to give me a very good reason why I should allow this, or I won’t.”

Kara licked her lips, her eyes searching Cat’s. Despite her tone and body language, her eyes were warm like cinnamon sprinkled on hot chocolate, and Kara felt herself relax. Her secret was safe with Cat. She was safe with Cat.

“The… the alien attacks,” she said. “I’m going to go and help—”

“So, there _is_ a connection between you and him. What is it? Not boyfriend, obviously—?”

Ew. Kara made a face, and Cat grinned.

“Brother?”

Kara shook her head.

“Cousin?”

Kara took a breath, then nodded, and Cat beamed at her, clearly delighted with that piece of information. Catching her expression, however, the smile vanished and was replaced by a more serious look as Cat put a finger to her lips. “I will keep this one, Supergirl.”

“Thank you.”

“So, since you need to be in Metropolis on… business, probably temporarily—?” Cat waited for confirmation, but all Kara could give her was a shrug and a strange grimace that said ‘no idea’. “We might want to work something out with the Planet. I don’t know. A cub reporter exchange program, maybe?” She paused. “Unless, you’d rather leave CatCo altogether? New horizons and all that?”

“No!” Kara bolted upright in her chair. If there was an option for her to stay, to _return_ , she’d gladly take it over any alternative.

Cat’s smile was soft, gentle, and maybe a little sad. “Are you sure? I think you’re ready, Kara.”

The silence that fell was a long one, still and heavy as a statue. Then Kara shook her head slowly. She wasn’t ready. Not yet. Perhaps she’d never be. “I… I’d like to be able to come back, if you’d have me?”

“My door is always open. Whether you’re working for me or not,” Cat said, her hand flying to the pendant around her neck and rolling it between her fingers. “However, if you prefer to play it safe, I guess I’ll be making some calls.”

“Thank you, Miss Grant.”

Cat waved her words away with an impatient hand gesture. “Yes, yes. Now get to work before I change my mind and fire you.”

Kara blinked confusedly, feeling both immense relief and the vague heaviness of having failed a test she hadn’t even known she was taking. She got to her feet.

“Come back after lunch.”

“Yes, Miss Grant.”

Despite the conflicting feelings swishing and clashing in her belly, it was as if the stones had finally dissolved. Her chest also felt a lot lighter. Perhaps, this could all work out after all.

Just when she allowed herself to breathe, a horrible noise filled her ears. A sort of high-pitched static cranked all the way up to something that was threatening to literally split her eardrums in half.

“If you can hear this, you were not born on this Earth.”

Hurrying towards the bathrooms, her hands clasped over her ears, Kara kept her head low, trying to the best of her compromised ability not to attract too much attention.

“Painful, isn’t it?” the snide voice from _inside_ her ears said. “Well, your pretty little human whore will suffer ten times this pain if you don't face me. Meet me at the National City Power Plant, Daughter of Alura. Or your little pet dies.”

She swerved, heading for the doors instead, and, as the screeching in her ears ebbed, a new panicked voice emerged. A voice screaming from within her, in time with her pulse.

Lena! Lena! Lena!

Kara’s heart contracted every time she thought Lena’s name.

She didn’t know how she got outside so fast or how she seemed to have forgotten all warnings and promises already, all she knew was that Lena was in danger and that she had to get to her. Now.

Kara ripped open her shirt and shimmied out of her pants behind the dumpsters by the door on the back of the building, put her glasses down on the ground next to the wall and, hopefully, out of harm’s way. Then she broke into a sprint.

Pushing off the ground hard enough to leave cracks in the concrete and feeling the wind rush past her ears, she took to the sky and set course for the city’s power plant.

When she arrived, her opponent was already there. Thanks to the lead-lined tanks and pipes, she couldn’t see him, but she could hear his heart, the thudding amplified by their surroundings.

“Who are you? Where is Lena? What have you done to her?” Kara yelled, but there was no answer. “Clever. Picking a spot lined with lead. But I can still hear your heartbeat. Show yourself, you big cowa—”

Something struck her head, sending her flying. She hit the ground hard, pain radiated, and, as the shape of her attacker swam in and out of focus, Kara clutched her cheek, looking up at what— at first glance— appeared to be a tall, bald man, built like an armored vehicle and heavily armed. He _looked_ human, but clearly was not.

“On my planet females bow before males, little girl,” he snarled, as she scrambled to her feet.

“This is not your planet.”

That made her sound braver than she felt, and Kara only hoped he couldn’t hear her heart panicking like a trapped bird in her chest. Feeling her palms sweat, she curled her fingers into them.

He cocked his head. His smile was fake, slimy and uncomfortable. “You look like Alura.”

“How do you know my mother’s name?”

“You don't easily forget the name of the bitch who condemned you to rot for all eternity,” he spat, and Kara noticed the muscle twitching in his jaw.

“She sent you to Fort Rozz.”

“Can't kill her. So killing you will have to do.”

The glint in his eyes told Kara he meant it, but, as her chest went tight, it wasn’t out of fear for herself. She kept trying to listen for Lena, but couldn’t detect her heartbeat anywhere, which could only mean one of two things: either Lena wasn’t here, or she was dead.

“Where is Lena?!” She demanded. Her voice shook, and he had heard it too. Kara bit the inside of her cheek.

“So you’re both weak _and_ stupid, Daughter of Alura,” he sneered. “Should have known with that symbol on your chest and the lack of common sense between those legs.”

He stepped forward then, shoulders slightly hunched, his gait that of a predator, and Kara took the offensive before he could, flying at him at full speed and crashing them through a wall, dust and debris raining down on the both of them.

He was back on his feet in a second, not a single scratch on him. Swinging for his smug face, Kara put her whole weight behind the punch, but it never hit. He dodged it with ease and punched her in the stomach so hard, it knocked all the air right from her lungs.

Staggering backwards, Kara gasped.

Before she could do more than blink, his hand closed around her throat. His grip abruptly cut off her air. She couldn’t breathe. Spots danced before her eyes as his smirk grew. She had no time to do anything. She couldn't speak or fight back.

Squeezing even harder, he lifted her off the ground and Kara felt herself go limp as blackness began to seep into her vision like watercolor. Then she was flying, but not of her own accord, crashing through brick and hitting the ground with a loud thud. Something cracked, she felt it break and splinter in her body, and Kara screamed in agony.

He had followed her, was stepping over the rubble and tearing down power lines to kill the lights. Electricity crackled in the air, making it taste like copper, and bright sparks danced in front of her eyes as they flew up and licked across the floor, hissing and spitting, crawling towards her.

Kara pushed through the fog and the pain with a grunt, pushed to her feet, and stood on trembling legs, raising her fists in front of her body.

He just laughed. “You actually think that you could stop me? That you'd be able to stop any of us? Fighting you is just exercise, little girl. Not even that, it’s a walk in the park.”

He ran at her, and before she had even thought about blocking the attack, he had kicked her in the chest, nearly making it cave in, sending her crashing into another concrete wall.

“Ugh.” Kara groaned, a hand flying to the back of her head as she staggered upright, leaning heavily against the wall behind her. She had bitten her tongue and it throbbed in time with the pounding in her head as something salty and bitter pooled in her mouth.

As he approached, Kara lunged again, but he simply caught her by the arm, using her own momentum against her and sending her face first into the cold, hard dirt.

When she coughed, something dark splattered across the ground. It was warm and sticky on her lips, and Kara didn’t have to taste it to know it was blood.

She would have wondered how it could be that he was making her bleed— in all her years on Earth, she had never lost so much as a single drop— but he had already grabbed her by the neck like a disobedient dog then, easily transferring her between his hands like a rag doll, with her toes scraping across the floor, desperately trying to find purchase.

Holding her around the neck, he brought his face closer to hers.

“Pity. You know, you’d make for a cute pet.” His words were cold, his breath sour, and Kara gagged when his wet tongue touched her face, licking a broad stripe across her cheek and over her lips, down to her throat. It left her skin prickling and burning like he had branded her with something white-hot and razor-sharp.

“No!” She struggled; a ragged whimper escaping her as his grip tightened. Any harder than that and he’d crush her windpipe, and his grin told her he knew it too.

“Play nice now, little girl,” he said, his breath hot at her ear and making her shudder. “And I might make it quick. I will still kill you—” Without warning, he slammed her into the ground so hard that it cracked around her— a concrete-angel shaped outline. Something sharp pierced her side and Kara gasped for air, coming away with a mouthful of warm, wet metal instead.

She panted and groaned, her chest on fire with every drowning breath. “Please—!” She spluttered. She hadn’t meant to beg, but the word just fell out of her mouth like broken teeth. “ _Please_.”

“Oh.” He picked her up, shoved her against something cool and hard. “I quite enjoy it when they beg. Good girl. Go on.” One hand pressing down on her throat, the other reached between her legs, and she tried to fight him off and close her thighs, but he simply wedged a knee in between hers, forcing her legs apart again.

“Nuh-uh,” his voice was low, dangerous and mocking, every sound dripping with perverted glee as his hand returned to where it had been. It moved, the heel of his palm pressing down hard as he rubbed roughly, and Kara fought harder but to no avail, tears brimming over and running down her cheeks, making her poor vision even blurrier.

“There, there,” he said. “You like this, now don’t you, Kryptonian whore?”

His face was close, close _enough_ , and Kara used the only weapon she could think of that didn’t hinge on clear lungs or a clear line of vision: her teeth.

They sunk into his face, and he jumped back with a yelled curse.

“Bitch!” He wiped at his cheek, his face smeared with blood, and Kara spat at his feet; a mixture of blood and poison that made her lips tingle.

“Killing you will bring me great satisfaction.”

Kara miraculously managed to block the blow that was aimed at her head, but the force of it still knocked her over. Panting, one shoulder on fire, blood running freely down her right arm which had begun to throb fiercely, she blinked up at him as his heel dug into her chest.

“We’re sending a message,” he growled. “And he’ll get it loud and clear.”

He picked her up and made her fly again, fly through a broken window and land somewhere outside, on her back, choking and wincing. She rolled over, tried to sit up on her knees and get to her feet from there, staggered, and collapsed again, right into his waiting arms.

This time, both his hands closed around her throat, and all Kara could think of was how sorry she was. Sorry for doing this to Lena. To her family and friends. She closed her eyes, feeling her whole body tremble with fury, and fear, and pain.

As her consciousness ebbed away, a sound crept into it. Loud and repetitive, the thup-thup-thup of an approaching helicopter, and Kara forced her eyes back open, sending a quick prayer to Rao, hoping against hope that this wasn’t what she feared it was. He would kill her too. And she would never forgive herself for that— in this life or the next.

A fiery blast, a booming noise, and her attacker’s weight was lifted, leaving her coughing and spluttering, trying to catch her breath.

“Kara!” A familiar voice yelled, and within seconds, Alex’s concerned face came into view as she leaned over her. One hand pressed to her ear, she said, “Trap One, pursue the hostile,” then her worried eyes and hands were back on Kara. “I’m sorry. Hey, hey, I'm here. I got you, I got you. You're gonna be okay.” 

Kara wanted to speak, but coughed instead, coughed up blood all over her hands.

“Oh my God, Kara!” 

She tried clearing her throat, swallowed hard, but the words wouldn’t come out steady or dry, no matter how hard she willed them to. “I’m… fine,” she croaked, even when she clearly wasn’t. “Okay.”

“Like hell you are,” Alex said, carefully supporting her head, her eyes scanning her face for facial injuries. “Try saying your name for me?”

“You know my name,” Kara said, gargling with the words to get them out there at all.

“Fuck,” Alex said. “Okay.” Her hands found Kara’s and held on. “We’re getting you help. Just—”

“Agent Danvers! Incoming!”

Alex’s head snapped up, and her hands and body reacted so fast, Kara’s sluggish eyes could barely keep track of her as she ducked and rolled, drawing a weapon from her belt in the movement, then jumped to her feet in front of Kara, aiming and ready to fire.

_Bang!_

The sound cut through the air, amplified in the empty space, so that she felt for a moment as if her whole head had expanded and contracted with it. And then, too quickly, more shots were fired, not just out of Alex’s weapon, but from other people’s too; people in dark uniforms that Kara recognized.

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

Kara yelped. The noise was too much.

“Hold your fire!” Alex yelled. “We need to get out of here; where’s medevac?”

“ETA three minutes, ma’am,” a female voice answered.

Kara rolled onto her side to see better, to help, and Alex glanced back at her, which cost her those few seconds she would have needed to prepare herself, to react like she otherwise would have.

As it was, however, she landed on her back with a bone-crushing thud, the repulsive alien on top of her. He was bleeding heavily now, clearly wounded from their bombs and bullets. Also, he was furious and would take out as many humans as he could before he was killed— if they managed to kill him at all.

Alex had the skill, but not the strength to fight him, and pinned to her back, there wasn’t much she could do.

“Alex!” Kara grunted, arms folded around her middle as she pushed onto her knees. “Leave her alone! Alex!”

The alien caught Alex’s fist before it could get anywhere near his face, seemingly impervious to the bullets raining down on him from all sides now. His hand closed around hers, the sound horrible in Kara’s ears as he did so, and she realized with a jolt that what she was listening to was bone being crushed to dust.

Alex screamed, and Kara screamed too, feeling desperate, helpless heat erupt from behind her eyes.

It hit the alien, blew him clean off Alex, but Kara kept going, forcing herself to her feet. All she could see through her unbridled fury was that alien on the ground, writhing in pain. The smell of burnt flesh grew stronger in her nose and screaming filled her ears. She had no idea if it was he who screamed, and she didn’t care. Perhaps they all screamed.

“Kara!”

When Kara blinked, the alien had been reduced to a pile of steaming goo on the ground, and she wanted to tell Alex, tell Alex that they were safe now, everyone was safe, but as she opened her mouth, her vision tilted and everything went black.

The next thing she heard was intermittent high-pitched beeping, the whirring of machines, and the steady beat of Alex’s heart next to her. The sun was warm on her skin, but the air smelled strangely of disinfectant, and when she opened her eyes, Kara realized that she was in a room full of medical equipment, three large sun lamps bathing her in artificial light as she lay on a gurney, a woolen blanket draped over her legs.

As she turned her head, she found Alex’s warm brown eyes looking back at her.

“Alex.”

“Hey,” Alex said. She was lying on an identical gurney next to Kara’s, propping herself up on one elbow. The elbow that wasn’t encased in plaster. Kara stared at the plaster cast that her other hand and arm were in, and felt the after pains of her anger rock through her body.

No matter what. No one got to hurt Alex.

“Well, he’s toast, whoever he was.”

“Vartox,” Alex said. “The claw in your arm helped us identify him. Post-mortem.”

Kara looked down at her arms, but they seemed to be fine.

“You healed after we got the claws out and the slobber off,” Alex explained.

“Yeah, he… he—” Kara broke off, the words ‘licked me’ dying in her throat. They were just too weird and disgusting to say. “So, he was… toxic?”

“In more ways than one. But apparently, he is… _was_ both poisonous and venomous.”

Kara frowned.

“Kara. If you bite it and die, it is poisonous; if it bites you and you die, it is venomous.”

“I know that,” Kara grumbled. “It’s just… ew.”

“What the hell were you doing fighting him anyway?” Alex asked, and Kara heard her heart beat slightly faster. “You could have _gotten killed_ , Kara!” 

“Right back at you,” Kara shot back. Then she added, “I thought he had Lena,” under her breath, and Alex groaned, which Kara took as confirmation that she had been lied to, lured into a trap. Great. But, at least, Lena was okay. She was okay, right?

“Lena is fine,” Alex said, a little exasperated. “Pissed off, but fine.”

Kara made a face.

“I talked to her on the phone. Well, talked _at_ her, anyway. Told her what happened and that you were fine.” Alex chuckled. “Good luck with that.” She smirked, then her face fell a little. “Well, Maggie’s pissed too. I… I told her, you know, after last week? After you—”

Alex trailed off. They looked at each other.

Kara took a deep breath. “ _Kryptonite_ , Alex?” Her voice broke, even when she hadn’t meant it to, and her eyes filled with tears.

Alex followed suit, her voice a little wobbly when she said, “I… I didn’t know they were going to do that. Please believe me! I was told they would bring you in, yes, but I thought they were going to… you know, _talk_ and then shoot, or rather: not shoot, and not vice versa.” She let out a shaky breath. “I’m _so_ sorry, Kara.”

Kara sniffled, studying her sister’s face. The furrowed brow, the sad brown eyes, the slight down-curve of her lips.

When she didn’t say anything, Alex added, “I tried taking it up the chain, but they shot me down. Said it was justified. I… I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Did you know about my mom? That she was the one who locked up all those aliens?” Kara asked, already knowing the answer. Alex had known all along. She had been chasing dangerous alien convicts for months and hadn’t said a word.

“It's why I didn't want you going out there. Showing yourself, showing this—” Alex pointed at Kara’s chest. “The Fort Rozz escapees would give anything to get revenge on your mother and the only way that they can do that now is to hurt you. I… I was trying to protect you. I still am.”

Kara huffed impatiently. “You’re the third person to tell me that, Alex. It doesn’t work that way!”

“Tell me how it works, then. See if your idea is better!”

“We protect _each other_.”

That shut Alex up, putting a pin in her self-righteousness, and Kara felt a little smug. Yes, she meant what she had said. She would protect her sister with her dying breath, but if Alex insisted on being an idiot about it, then she would complain about it the entire time.

“There’s something else I need to tell you,” Alex said after a moment, lowering her voice like she had done when they were kids and about to do something they shouldn't. “Something you should see.”

Kara’s ears perked up. Alex-trouble was the best kind of trouble. Plus, she was curious by nature. Too curious for her own good sometimes. “What is it?” She whispered, even though they were alone in the room.

“Not here. I’ll show you at home?” Alex whispered back. Her cheeks had colored a little. “I… already got yelled at for breaking the rules once today.”

“You. Breaking rules? Ha!”

Alex drew a sharp breath, indignant. “I defied direct orders, Kara. For you!” She looked at Kara then, and her chest seemed to deflate like an old balloon, worry lines appearing on her forehead and around her mouth. “And thank God, I did.”

“I… I wasn’t ready,” Kara admitted. “I thought I was, but I wasn’t strong enough.”

“You’re plenty strong, Kara. You just… we need to train you properly.”

“We?”

“I’m going to help. I have an idea,” Alex said, and Kara wasn’t sure she liked the sound of it. “I’ll have to check something first, but I’ll tell you later. With… with the other thing.”

“ _What_ other thing?” Kara almost whined.

“Later. Tonight?” Alex tapped her lips with a finger, and Kara sighed.

“Fine.” She rolled onto her back. “Alex?”

“Mmhm?”

“How long am I supposed to stay here for?” She pointed at the lamps. “I feel fine.”

“Give it another half hour, maybe?” Alex suggested. “Oh, and my boss wants to talk to you.”

Well, Kara _definitely_ didn’t like the sound of that.

Talking to Hank Henshaw was nothing compared to facing Lena. When Kara finally made it home, dirty and exhausted, her body longing for a hot shower and an evening on the couch, with a tray of potstickers in her lap and her favorite feel-good movie on TV, Lena was already waiting for her.

Kara had given her a key. For emergencies, or for whenever Lena felt like it, so it didn’t exactly come as a surprise.

Lena did hug her when she got in, held her close until Kara both felt and heard her heart-rate go down, but there was something in the set of her jaw, in the way her lips twitched when she tried to smile, that told Kara she had another thing coming.

Better get out ahead of it then.

“I’m sorry, Lena,” she said. “I—”

“You _promised_ you wouldn’t, Kara.” Lena’s voice was a rubber band stretched very, very thin. “And without telling anybody! Without telling _me_! I thought we were a team? Instead, I get home to an empty apartment and am left waiting, and waiting, and waiting… no calls, no texts, no _nothing_!” She blinked furiously. “And then, _then_ the phone rings and I have to hear from… from your _sister_ , her of all people, that… that you’re _hurt_ and back at that… place! And—”

Lena was trembling with her emotions. Her lip quivered. She looked at Kara out of red-rimmed eyes, tears glistening on her dark lashes, and Kara wordlessly pulled her into another hug. “I’m so sorry, Lena. It… was a trap. I thought, I _believed_ he’d gotten you. I… I came to… help. To bring you home safe. Like you did for me? I didn’t know—”

Lena sniffed. “You could have _called_?” she said. “Someone would have told you I was at the office. All day.”

“I… I didn’t think.”

“No, you didn’t.” Lena nuzzled the crook of her neck. “But you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks to Alex, I am.”

Lena pulled back enough to look at her. “Not to sound ungrateful, because I am, but what the… _what on earth_ , Kara?! After what she did? I don’t—”

“That wasn’t her fault. She’s very sorry.”

“Of course she is,” Lena scoffed. “Well… it’s up to you.”

“I believe her,” Kara said quietly. “She’s my _sister_ , Lena.”

Lena made a non-committal sound, freeing herself from the embrace, and walked over to the kitchen. “I’m making tea.”

Kara rubbed her face, then followed her, plopping down on one of the stools. “I _really_ thought you were in danger.”

Lena shut off the water and put the kettle on. She turned to face her. “Even if I _were_ ,” she said. “You can’t just rush head-first into things like this. Without… thinking. That’s what… that’s how it works. They use me to get to you! I can’t—” She shook her head, leaned back against the counter. Her knuckles were white when she gripped it.

“Lena,” Kara said softly.

“What if something _had_ happened? To you?” Lena asked. “What if you had… _died_?” She barely breathed the last word into the air between them. “That would have been on me!”

“What? No!” Kara got to her feet and rounded the table to get to Lena, then she threw her arms wide. “Now which of us isn’t thinking? Oh, come here!”

For a horrible moment, Kara thought Lena wouldn’t. That she would leave her standing there like an idiot. But then Lena sighed heavily, her shoulders dropping, and moved in to hug her and be hugged in return. Kara put all her feelings into it, wrapping Lena in her arms like she would never let her go. Which she wouldn’t.

She hugged her whole body, feeling knee against knee, thigh against thigh, breast against breast, neck nestled against neck. She listened to their hearts beating, strong and full of love.

Lena had gone soft in her arms, her chin hooked on Kara’s shoulder, her face buried in her hair and neck. “I… was so worried.”

Kara’s arms around her back tightened. “I’m sorry. I’m going to be more careful.”

“You better.”

“I promise.”

“I don’t care what your cousin says,” Lena said, her warm breath tickling Kara’s skin. “Or anyone. We’re going to Metropolis.”

“Okay.”

Behind them, the kettle whistled, but they ignored it. And, when they finally let go, Lena had to put it on again.

“Oh,” she said, stooping to pick something up off the stool in front of her and placing it on the table. “This… this came for you, while you weren’t here. There’s a note.”

Lena glanced up at her from under her lashes, and Kara almost laughed. Apparently, Lena didn’t like it when other people sent her things. She pulled the cardboard box closer to her, tilting her head as she studied it.

Nothing weird about it. Just a regular, old shoebox.

Intrigued, Kara opened the card. It read: _to Kara. This should help with the sharp turns. See you in Metropolis. - C._

Kara shook her head, grinning. When she carefully lifted the lid and saw what the box contained, a sudden lump formed in her throat, and she had to swallow hard before she could speak.

“That’s… that’s the blanket he was wrapped in when he was a baby.” She let the soft material slide through her fingers. They didn’t make fabric like this here. There was nothing like this on Earth. She looked up at Lena. “Clark says it’ll make a good cape.”

Lena licked her lips, her gaze roaming over the unexpected delivery with an expert eye, then she reached out a hand and fingered the length of fabric as carefully as if the blanket had been a living, breathing thing.

“I think we can work with that.”

Kara beamed at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bit longer than the last one. I hope everyone had fun.  
> Thoughts? 😊
> 
> **Content warning summary** : if you skipped scene #2: Kara is under the impression that Vartox has kidnapped Lena and rushes to the rescue. They fight. It starts out sexist and gets pretty ugly. Alex (and Co.) show(s) up last minute to help and, ultimately, Kara blows Vartox to bits using her heat-vison, because he laid a hand on Alex. 


	28. The Port

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended listening for part two of this chapter is our Pride Playlist from Chapter 2: [Queer Karaoke Night: Pride Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/37i9dQZF1DX59HcpGmPXYR?si=gEJRNC5MQz--yEmkWxECrg)

Everything was in boxes. It didn’t take her all that long. Probably because she had only unpacked half of them in the first place.

Of all the things that filled her apartment, Lena only packed the essentials— books, clothes, mementos. Her favorite cups and teas. The rest would go into storage or to charity. She didn’t need the furniture. She didn’t need the paintings. They would start fresh in Metropolis and, this time, they would make a _home_. A home and not just a place to go to when it wasn’t socially acceptable to be at the office.

Lena looked forward to that. To Kara’s warm, homey touches. To the bright colors and soft things. Drapes, throw pillows. Enough blankets to build a fort the size of their bedroom. There would be built-in floor to ceiling bookshelves, a large wooden dining table (for when they had people over for dinner or game nights), and a place for Kara’s DVD collection right next to the TV, so their guests could choose the next 90s blockbuster or obscure indie movie to watch, everyone curled up on their large couch or lounging in comfortable armchairs, a tub of home-made popcorn in their lap.

And, of course, there would be flowers and plants. On the windowsills, coffee tables, and in the bedroom. Albert needed brothers and sisters, didn’t he?

Humming to herself, Lena glanced over at her little green ward, perched on his stool under the sun lamps. He had grown a full five inches since she’d last gotten out the tape measure and his leaves were a sparkling, healthy green, full of life and light.

“You’re going to love it,” she told him. “You’ll see. It’s going to be great.”

Perhaps she told Albert, because she needed to hear the words herself. Perhaps she told him, because she truly believed they were true. Or they could be.

Lena knew it wouldn’t all be sunshine and rainbows. There was Mother, for one thing. Mother would do her damnedest to ruin this for her— all in the name of ‘love’, of course. She would try and bring her back into the fold. She wouldn’t just let her go and be happy. Lillian Luthor wasn’t that kind of mother.

And there were the alien convicts out for Kara and Superman’s blood. They would attack them both, so they could make their plans for Earth and humanity a reality sooner rather than later, but it was Kara who they truly wanted to hurt. Because of who she was; because of who _her_ mother had been.

Kara had told her about Krypton, about her parents, the brilliant scientist and the highly respected judicator, and a lot of things had clicked into place. Yes, Kara was kind, and funny, and cute, and caring, but she was also incredibly perceptive, curious, and smart. She cared deeply about what was true and fair and just, and always wanted to do the right thing.

They could debate politics over ice cream, and troubleshoot for kinks and issues with Lena’s latest invention while snuggled up under the covers. It was wonderful having someone to talk to about all aspects of her life, to understand and be understood, and Lena truly didn’t know how she had gone over two decades without having this kind of energy in her life. Her mother, her real mother, must have loved her, but, even if she had, it was a different kind of love and she could barely remember it anyway.

As much as she loved having Kara in her life, however, it worried her a little how much she had started to depend on her. Emotionally. Part of her still held back, but she was kidding herself if she pretended that she and her life could go back to being fine without Kara there with her. The longer she had her, the more she realized it would tear her apart to lose her.

She couldn’t lose Kara.

It was this embarrassing but simple truth that had her grudgingly agree when Kara told her about her plan. Kara had said that she’d be training with her sister and Lena had told her it was a good idea (because it was, objectively speaking). Apparently, Alex had made it her mission in life to teach Kara everything about hand-to-hand combat— or as much as one could teach and learn in the week and a half that had been left before the move to Metropolis then, anyway.

So, for the past week and a half, Kara had come home sweaty and exhausted, and Lena had drawn her a relaxing bubble bath or they’d hopped into the shower together, before dinner. While Lena prepared for her return to headquarters, Kara learned to punch, kick, block, and roll like a pro in some dingy boxing studio downtown, Kryptonite-bracelets around her wrists so she wouldn’t accidentally beat her sister to a pulp. Part of Lena still hoped for a malfunction or for Kara to forget putting them on, just one time, but she knew Kara would be devastated if either ever happened, so she was also glad it didn’t.

They had talked about it. Kara had tried to explain, and while Lena understood how secret branches of the government operated and how chains of command worked, she couldn’t forgive Alex. She had used Kryptonite on Kara once. Who was to say she wouldn’t do it again? Well, Kara did, but of course she’d look at it that way. Alex was her big sister. If she couldn’t trust her big sister, then what was the point of family?

Alex had also brought Kara a strange rock, a kind of recording device that her employer had recovered from the pod that had brought Kara to Earth. Lena still couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that Kara, thirteen-year-old Kara, had traveled across the galaxy, had traveled through space all by herself, with nothing but the clothes on her back, and with no idea where she would end up or when she would get there. The terror, the loneliness, the bravery. It took her breath away when she thought about it.

The message had brought Kara to tears— both happy and not-so-happy— and she and Alex had each held one hand of hers in theirs as Kara played the message a second time. Then a third and a forth. It had been recorded back on Krypton, was years and years old; so old it made Lena’s head swim to try and figure out _exactly_ how old, and still, the picture and sound had been clear as day and crisp, the hologram of Kara’s mother so real, almost _solid_ , almost _tangible_ , in Kara’s small, cozy living room.

Alura Zor-El had been beautiful. A woman who commanded a room with both her words and looks.

There was a lot of her mother in Kara. Lena could spot hints of her in Kara’s happy smile or her cute, little frown (when she was trying to solve the children’s puzzles on the back of the cereal boxes). Even their voices sounded similar, sometimes. Lena had been impressed by how well-spoken Alura Zor-El— well, the years-old recording of her— had been, how eloquent and fluent in a language so foreign, from a planet so far away. Sure, her syntax, her sentence structure, was a tad stiff, her vocabulary a bit dated for modern ears, but still. It was impressive.

When she mentioned this to Kara, Kara had told her that all the great houses had placed great value on the study of the arts and languages. Language, art, and literature had been just as important in a young Kryptonian’s education as science and physical and mental well-being, and Kara was already fluent in more languages and dialects at three years old than Lena would ever be in her entire lifetime. Something about expressing the true self and communicating it to others to form lasting bonds, Kara had explained, shrugging. Her mother, on top of being a successful judge, had also been a fierce advocate for peace and intergalactic understanding, and had studied endangered and nearly-extinct languages on her own time, amassing a crazy amount of resources and books in the process.

Alura Zor-El sure was a mother to be proud of. Lena would have liked to meet her. Sadly, that wasn’t a possibility. And she would make sure the same stayed true for Mother and Kara. She couldn’t stand to think what Mother might do, what she might say— and the way it would permanently alter the way Kara looked at her. No, she wouldn’t risk it. She couldn’t.

“Sorry! Sorry I’m late!” Kara came pounding into the room like an overgrown puppy, fresh from the dog park on a rainy day. Her clothes were dirty, her ponytail messy, and her glasses sat slightly askew atop her nose, but her smile was big, and bright enough to light up the entire apartment.

Kara engulfed her in one of her signature hugs. The crushing hugs that stole her breath and dug her earrings into the sides of her head. The hugs that made her heart dance in her chest. The hugs she never wanted to live without ever again.

“I’ll be quick and then we can go,” Kara said, dropping her bag and shrugging out of her jacket, dropping that too, right where she stood. She kicked off her shoes a little too enthusiastically, and they slid across the floor and crashed into the couch. “Sorry, we— _I_ forgot the time.” Her hands reached for the hem of her shirt, but then stilled. “Or, um—? Have you had dinner yet? We… We could eat? Order in, maybe? Or do you want—?”

Lena laughed. “It’s fine. We can eat there?”

“Okay, cool. Five minutes?”

The peck on her lips was fleeting, gentle and light as a feather, and, by the time it took Lena to blink, Kara had already dashed from the room and into the bathroom, leaving an impressive trail of clutter and chaos in her wake. Lena would get used to it. A little mess was good for the soul, right?

“Ten is fine, Kara,” she called after her. “Make it fifteen and maybe the shower head lives this time?”

The thought of Kara under the shower, her soft skin all warm and lathered up, the scent of her delicious body wash engulfing her in a cloud of steam, was enough to have Lena regret getting ready on time. She had already showered, put on a burgundy V-neck top and a nice skirt, and done her hair and make-up. Reapplying her lipstick in the hallway mirror, she sighed and checked her purse one last time: Phone, keys, cards, lipstick, tissues, and Advil. All set.

“Okay. Ready!” Kara reappeared by her side, dressed in tight black jeans and a dark blue shirt that made her eyes pop. Her face was bare, every freckle visible to the naked eye, and she was absolutely gorgeous.

They drove to the harbor in one of the less obnoxious company cars. It was already much later than intended, the sun easing over National City like melting butter as they wound their way through the city, but Lena found it didn’t bother her. With Kara by her side, their hands linked and thumbs stroking each other’s skin every other second, Lena wouldn’t have cared if they had been late by a few hours rather than the extra 30 minutes. With Kara by her side, she felt grounded, tethered. She felt safe. And nothing else mattered.

Desperately holding onto that feeling, and onto Kara’s hand, Lena stood on the curb outside the Port, suddenly unsure.

They didn’t speak, and they didn’t go in, but just stood for a moment, watching the glittering lights and the people drawn to them, flocking to the Port like multi-colored moths and beautiful dragonflies.

Kara waited for her to lead the way, and so she did, Kara’s hand gently squeezing hers.

The moment they walked in through the door and the wave of heat, and sweat, and molecules of saliva— which Lena knew were in every breath she took around other people— hit them, something inside of her curled up to die and demanded to be taken home at once.

She almost turned back around then, her jaw clenched and shoulders squared, but Kara had her hand on the small of her back. There was something protective about it, something comforting, and Lena felt herself relax a little as Kara safely maneuvered them through the chattering crowd towards the far end of the bar.

They were here to see friends, to have a nice night out one last time before leaving for Metropolis. The friends were mostly Kara’s friends (and sister), but Kara had assured her everyone would be nothing but nice, and they’d have _so much fun, really, Lena_ — and who was she to say no to those big blue eyes? She couldn’t.

So here they were. In the packed bar on a Wednesday. Karaoke night.

They were here, and Lena would even try to be nice to Kara’s sister if she had to, because it would make Kara happy, but there was one thing she absolutely wouldn’t do: sing.

“Hey! Sorry we’re late!” Kara plopped down, sliding into the horseshoe booth next to Maggie, and rather than to slide in opposite, which meant she would have ended up sitting next to Alex, Lena slid right in after her, dimly wondering how many people were coming, because this thing could easily seat at least eight. There was a small round table in the middle and an extra chair the same color as the upholstery.

“Night’s just getting started, so you’re good,” Maggie said. “We just had to get here early to snag up this baby. Lorna said she couldn’t hold it much later than nine.”

“This is great,” Lena said, looking at her hands on the table rather than anyone’s face.

“Yeah, awesome!” Kara agreed. “Thanks!”

Before the conversation could come to an uncomfortable standstill, someone else arrived. A girl, about their age, or maybe a little younger, wearing a short-sleeved, green, sequin mini-dress that barely covered anything and made her sparkle like a tropical bird. It matched her eyeshadow and the pin in her hair. She waved enthusiastically, her face doing all sorts of gymnastics, and Lena couldn’t help but grin.

“Hi, everyone. Hi!” She looked at Maggie and Alex, then her eyes rested on Lena, and Lena could have sworn the girl actually blushed. “Hi, I’m Nia,” she said, holding out her hand shyly.

Lena took it. “Lena. You’re Kara’s friend from CatCo, right?”

“Yep,” Nia said. “Guilty as charged. And I brought my roommate, Yvette, but she’s still chatting to some people outside.” Nia slid into the booth and scooted until she sat right next to Alex. “Love the hair,” she said, nodding at Alex’s asymmetrical cut. “You must be Alex?”

“Thanks,” Alex said. “Yeah, I am. And this is Maggie.”

“Here you are, sugar!” A vision, no, a goddess in a sparkly rainbow-stripe dress, came to a halt next to their table. “This place is packed tighter than the 7 on Monday mornings. But I like these losers better. They at least got style.” Her black curls and loop earrings danced as she shook her head, laughing. It was a deep, booming laugh, almost like a bark. “Y’all, I’m Yvette, by the way. But this one—” She pointed at Nia. “Probably already told you that.” She put her hands on her hips and looked around the table, scanning each of their faces in turn. “And who are the two darling lovebirds flying the nest, hmm? First round’s on you ladies, am I right?” She laughed again, and Lena felt her face color when Kara raised her hand and pointed at them both, beaming.

“Hi, I’m Kara,” she said, half rising from her seat to shake Yvette’s hand. “And this is my girlfriend, Lena. Yeah, first drinks on us.”

While Lena tingled all over, still basking in the sound of the word ‘girlfriend’ and how Kara had said it, Yvette made an appreciative noise, then shifted her attention to Maggie. “You’re here a lot,” she said. “Lorna’s friend? You police, yeah?”

Beside Maggie, Alex shifted and sat up a little straighter. Maggie put a hand over hers, a movement so small, Lena was sure everyone but the three of them had missed it.

“Maggie,” she said with a smile. “Me and my girl Alex—” She tilted her head in Alex’s direction— “We’re here mostly on Wednesdays.”

“Karaoke nights _are_ the best!” Nia interjected, and Kara agreed, the two of them steering the conversation into the topic of karaoke: song choices, epic performances, and drunken fails. Everyone, it seemed, had a story to share, but her. And everyone had a favorite song they wanted to sing. Plans were made, duet partners found, and Lena wanted to melt into the seat.

“¡Hola, ladies!” A tray with drinks— a colorful mix of shots and shooters— appeared on the table the moment a familiar voice hit her ears.

She turned her head to see Andrea, as radiant as ever, standing there in a tight green dress and killer heels, smiling broadly at everyone. “Hi, I’m Andrea,” she said confidently. “Lena’s friend. And I come bearing gifts.”

“Now that’s my kind of woman,” Yvette said, and Andrea laughed. 

Everyone said hi, nodded or waved, gave names and details on how they were connected to someone else at the table, then went on to compliment each other’s outfits or hair. They were only seven people, seven women, but the conversation had gotten very loud, with everyone talking over one-another and laughing at incomplete jokes that were only half-finished before they were drowned out by shrill laughter or girlish giggling.

Lena just watched and listened, feeling suddenly shy and a little overwhelmed. These girls were nothing like the girls from boarding school, and if there were unspoken rules to their interactions, she didn’t know them.

Sure, she had spent the weekend in Midvale, with Maggie and Alex also there, but that had been different. And Andrea wasn’t any help either. She had always been a social butterfly. Andrea Rojas could blend in with any crowd, and she knew how to wrap people around her little finger until they ate out of her palm.

“Oh, no, no,” she was saying when Lena tuned back into the conversation. “You should have seen it! We’re all… well, let’s say slightly tipsy, at this point, and it’s freezing balls, so, I think it was Veronica who suggested the sauna and—”

“‘Drea,” Lena warned, knowing, if not all the middle parts, exactly how this story was going to end— and this wasn’t the audience for that. “Really.”

“Relax.” Andrea looked at her, her blue-green eyes sparkling with mirth. “It’s a good story,” she said innocently; like someone who knew exactly what they were doing. She gave her a candy apple pout, and Lena sighed.

“So, we go and ditch our bikinis, like one does, and sit in there like a couple of roosting hens, and this one—” She laughed, jerking her head in Lena’s direction— “She’s going all _Proust_ on us while getting even more… well, I don’t even remember where the bottle of Jager came from—”

Lena glared at her, but Andrea only had eyes for her rapt audience, and ignored her completely. “ _You_ bought it. At that little—”

“Yes, yes. Anyway—”

Lena didn’t listen anymore. She knew how this story would end. With the four of them, almost butt-naked, in a police station in Courchevel, France.

It wasn’t a memory she particularly wanted to revisit or relive. Even when the night in question had come with a passionate, stolen kiss from Andrea in the pool and she still had the vivid mental image of a Ferrari idling in the McDonald’s drive-through, followed by a couple of top of the range Porsche 4×4’s, the Spice Girls blaring from the radio as they rolled up to the speaker in one of their own, and Andrea answering the question ‘And how would you like your fries, mademoiselle’ in perfect French, replying, ‘With diamonds’, before they had dissolved into endless giggles, laughing with the arrogance of spoiled teenage girls.

By the time Andrea was done telling the story and everyone was laughing tears, the shots and shooters were gone and had been replaced by individual drinks: beer, wine, cocktails, and alien spirits that made color rise in Kara’s cheeks until they matched Lena’s.

The music was loud. Next to her, Kara was radiating heat, and her hand was warm on Lena’s thigh, squeezing intermittently.

Lena felt warm and fuzzy from her drink and had just decided that, maybe, this evening wasn’t half bad, when someone— was it Andrea? — suggested dancing, and everyone got up.

She had to come along, couldn’t stay seated, because she would have blocked the others in, but Lena wasn’t too happy with her lot on the dancefloor. At least not until Kara wrapped her arms around her and pulled her close. Much, much too close.

They danced to Donna Summer, ABBA, and Whitney Houston. Then someone tapped her on the shoulder, and Lena found herself face-to-face with a grinning Andrea.

“Mind if I cut in?” Andrea asked, barely audible over the music, and Lena, too perplexed to do anything about it, let her do as she liked, watching as Andrea took Kara’s hand and the lead, spinning them across the dancefloor.

Andrea was leaning in close to whisper something in Kara’s ear, but Lena had no time to wonder about it, because she too had been taken by the hands and given a fast whirl.

“You’ll get her back.” Maggie laughed. “Come, dance with us, Luthor.”

Lena blinked, her eyes finding Alex’s face, and Alex promptly excused herself to get more drinks at the bar.

“Children!” Maggie bellowed after her, making sure Alex would hear her over the music and the overall din. “Seriously. You two need to bury the hatchet.”

“I’m not the one who dug it up,” Lena said, and Maggie rolled her eyes and gave her another whirl.

“Oh, shut it and dance.”

A couple songs later, everyone was back in the booth for a much needed pit stop, re-hydrating and giving their feet a rest. Lena had lost count of the number of drinks she— and everyone else— had had at that point, but, if the volume of their voices and the funny feeling in her legs was any indication, it had been at least one too many for everyone already.

To gleeful shouts and clapping— and the odd marriage proposal thrown in for good measure— Maggie had brought over two large pizzas— one for Kara, which she shared with Nia, and one for the rest of them. It was hot and greasy, and Lena had never tasted anything better in her life.

Still focused on her pizza slice, she startled when arms wrapped around her shoulders and a greasy kiss was pressed to her cheek.

Andrea giggled at her ear, her breath hot when she said, “See? Told you,” in that obnoxiously confident tone. If anything, Andrea _loved_ being right. “I’m really happy for you, Lena.”

Lena paused sucking tomato sauce off her thumb and turned to Andrea, noting the color in her cheeks and the emotion swimming in her eyes. As if on cue, she felt herself tear up too. Andrea had always had that effect on her.

“Thanks,” she said, glancing across the table at Kara, who was in the middle of a pizza-slice sword-fight with Nia. “I… I got lucky.”

“Some advice? Don’t blow it.”

Was it her imagination, or did Andrea sound a little too chipper? Raising an eyebrow at her, she nodded. “Wasn’t planning to.”

“Just… you know.” Andrea let go of her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Hold onto her while you can.”

Lena half laughed, half scoffed. “Gee, how many drinks have you _had_ , ‘Drea?”

With a pointed look, Andrea reached for her glass and emptied it in one go, before she excused herself to go get another round.

Shaking her head, Lena looked after her, then took another bite of pizza.

She would. She would hold onto Kara like her life depended on it, and never let go again. She would follow her anywhere, put up with anyone or anything. She would face Mother and rogue aliens. She would apologize to Kara’s sister, if she had to. She would learn how to cook, so Kara wouldn’t eat them out of a house and home. Perhaps, they could cook together sometimes.

Music and alcohol pumped in her veins. Lena looked around the table at happy faces and saw nothing but smiles. She knew it was the drinks talking, but she no longer felt like the sore thumb sticking out or the extra wheel that nobody wanted or needed. She was okay, this was okay. It was more than okay.

Andrea put her bounty on the table, then took two violently pink drinks off the tray, offering one to Lena with a smirk. Lena took it, even when years of experience told her it was a very bad idea. The drink smelled sickly sweet, but tasted stronger than it looked, and she was sure it would give her a head-splitting headache in the morning.

“Hey, everyone!”

Lena looked up to a chorus of hellos.

Lucy had appeared at their table, looking a little harried but hiding it rather well, behind an amused smile. She was wearing part of her uniform— a blue, three-button coat with silver-colored buttons, open over a light blue blouse, and a matching skirt. Only her flight cap was missing.

“Looks like I’m at least three drinks late to the party?” she said, running a hand through her windswept hair. Beside Lena, Andrea choked on her drink and cleared her throat roughly. “Parking is a nightmare in this stupid city.”

“What… what do you drive?” Andrea asked, and Lena followed her line of vision, watched her wide eyes taking in the epaulets on Lucy’s shoulders, the U.S. pin on her lapel, the rank insignia, specialty badges and other decorations.

Lucy let out a comfortable belly laugh. She shook her head and pointed at the ceiling. “Not a car, a ‘copter.”

That answer reduced Andrea— eloquent, confident Andrea— to a befuddled little “Oh?” — and Lena had to bite her bottom lip not to laugh out loud.

“You… you’re a pilot?” she asked, her tone incredulous as she scooted closer to Lena to make room for Lucy to sit. “Fascinating.”

“Officer in the United States Army's JAG Corps, actually,” Lucy said, and held out her hand. “Lucy Lane. Or just Lucy.”

“Uh, Andrea Rojas. Andrea.”

“Pleasure.”

Sniggering into her cocktail, Lena could practically _hear_ Andrea blush from here till next Tuesday.

“Sorry I’m late, Lena,” Lucy said, then waved at Kara. “Hey, Kara.” She shrugged out of her coat, letting it pool around her on the seat. “I… couldn’t get away on time. Jimmy, he… well, he’s no longer a factor in…” She reached for an unclaimed shot on the table. “Cheers!”

“Her boyfriend,” Lena muttered to Andrea, watching her face fall a little. “Well, apparently, _ex_ -boyfriend now?” Then she raised her voice and said, “Sorry to hear that. You okay?”

“Yeah,” Lucy said, her face smoothing out as the taste of alcohol dissipated on her tongue. “It’s fine. Been coming for a long time, really. I just… no, it’s better this way.”

Andrea handed her another drink, which Lucy accepted without hesitation.

“Boys suck,” she said, wincing as she took a sip, and Andrea and Lena exchanged a quick look over her head.

Emboldened by alcohol, Lena leaned forward, grinning at Lucy. “You could, you know… there’s always…”

Lucy raised an eyebrow at her. “I _know_ , Luthor. Been playing for both teams since I was 13.” She gave an exaggerated eye roll. “Not that that makes anything _any_ easier.”

“Hear hear,” Andrea said, taking a large gulp of her own drink.

Lena decided to leave them to it.

Lucy caught up quickly, and when they returned to the dancefloor a little while later, she was dancing and laughing along with the rest of them, endearingly oblivious to Andrea’s drunken attempts at flirting.

Lena laughed, twirling on the spot with her arms in the air. She bumped into someone, stumbling right into their arms, and found they were Kara’s.

“What’s so funny?” Kara asked, laughing with her. Her eyes were bright, her face red, and her hands warm and steady on Lena’s waist. “Having fun?”

“Uh-huh.” Lena blinked up at her, her arms sneaking around Kara’s neck of their own accord as a slow song came on. It was a cheesy, romantic one. One that would have made her huff and roll her eyes, normally, but now had her rest her cheek against Kara’s chest as they swayed slowly on the spot.

Listening to Kara’s heart like it was a metronome thudding out the rhythm to their dance, Lena’s mind went back to the last time she had been here, at the little bar by the harbor. The room was the same. The music was the same. Even some of the people were the same. And yet, she couldn’t feel more different. About herself, and about life in general. About love.

If she had gone back and told her past self, that Lena would have laughed in her face. That Lena wouldn’t have believed a single word. That Lena may have _known_ about the butterfly effect, but hadn’t seen it in action yet. And that Lena, sure as hell, hadn’t believed in love— at first sight or otherwise.

Well, she believed now. With her whole heart.

“I’m… I do love you, Kara.”

“I love you too, /zhor/-/te/.”

Before Lena could ask about the Kryptonian and what it meant, Kara’s mouth was on hers, her lips warm and firm and sure, and she melted against her. Sometimes, with Kara— sweet and goofy Kara— she forgot how strong she was; how powerful, how solid. And yet, for all of her strength, she was incredibly gentle.

Kara’s hands slid down her back, over the curve of her butt, pulling her close. “I… can’t wait to get to take you home every night, Lena,” she rasped into Lena’s ear, and Lena felt herself go up in flames. Perhaps it was the alcohol, because Kara was never this… forward. Not in public. Not even in the bedroom. Well, maybe in the bedroom, but even in bed, she wasn’t this… vocal about it?

“I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

“But first?” Kara mumbled the words against her lips, and Lena felt them lift into a grin. “Sing with me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that’s it, folks. 
> 
> Basically, after the singing, the sex, and the hangover, the moving trucks start rolling and Lucy takes them (and Albert) to Metropolis. They kick some serious alien ass and live happily ever after. Sort of anyway. That’s a story for another day. It would be a whole Season 1 AU and, while I would love for that to happen and for Lena and Astra to meet (OMG. PICTURE IT.), I don’t have time for that kind of project right now. 
> 
> Thank you for your comments, and kudos, and support. I had so much fun writing this and sharing it with y’all! 😊


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